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i 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD 



MAEY HUBBAED HOWELL 

AuTHOB OF “Through the Winter, ’’ “On the Way Home,” 
After Years,” Etc. 


“In 


“We will go by the king’s high way: we will not turn to the right 
hand nor to the left.” — Bible. 



CF : 

DEC 3 


PHILADELPHIA : 

THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

1122 Chestnut Steeet. 


{All rights reserved,) 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by 
THE AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


r<' 


Jas. B. Rodgers Printing Co 
52 and 54 N. Sixth Street, 
Philadelphia, Pa. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER I. ^ 

PAGE 

The Road Chosen 9 

CHAPTER II. 

In the Slough of Despond 28 

CHAPTER III. 

Out of the Way 47 

CHAPTER IV. 

Fenced In 65 

CHAPTER V. 

The Burden Dropped . 81 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Spring at the Foot of the Hill 98 

CHAPTER VII. 

Climbing Hill Difficulty 128 

V 


vi 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER VIII. 

PAGE 

In the Aeboe on the Hill-side 154 

CHAPTER IX. 

In the House Beautiful 178 

CHAPTER X. 

The Two Lions 195 

» CHAPTER XI. 

The Poetee’s Dieections 212 

CHAPTER XIL 

In the Valley of Humiliation 231 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Healing Leaves 246 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Theough the Valley of the Shadow of Death . . 260 

CHAPTER XV. 

In Vanity Faie 271 

CHAPTER XVI. 

In the Plain Called Ease 285 


CONTENTS. vii 

CHAPTER XVIL 

PAGE 

By the Hill Called Lucre 296 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Out of Castle Doubting 311 

CHAPTER XIX. 

In the Chamber of Peace 329 

CHAPTER XX. 

Still Along the Highway 337 


'> 


“ Go tell them also of those dainty things 

That Pilgrimage unto the Pilgrim brings. 

Let them acquainted be, too, how they are 

Beloved of their King, under his care ; 

What goodly mansions he for them provides. 

Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides ; 

How brave a calm they will enjoy at last. 

Who to their Lord,, and by his ways hold fast.” 

— Pilgrim^ s Progress, 
viii 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


CHAPTEE I. 

THE ROAD CHOSEN. 

** Is this the way to the Celestial City ? 

You are just in your way. 

How far is it thither? 

Too far for any but those who shall get thither indeed. 

— Pilgrim’s Progress, 

TT was a warm, sunshiny, Sabbath afternoon in 
the month of July. In a large boarding-house 
in Quantuck, a well-known summer resort on the 
Atlantic coast, dinner was just over, and the 
spacious parlors and broad piazzas were thronged 
with men, women and children laboriously en- 
gaged in doing — nothing. A confused sound of 
voices talking and babies crying, of omnibuses 
rolling through the street on the way to the beach, 
and of untrained fingers thrumming on the piano, 
mingled strangely with the solemn surge of the 
ocean, the sighing of the summer wind and the 
low, sweet twittering of nest-hidden birds. Nature 

( 9 ) 


10 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


was full of the Sabbath joy, and only the beings 
breathing thoughtful breath, for whom that 
Sabbath was specially meant, seemed indifferent to 
it, or weary of it. 

At one side of the house, under some wide- 
spreading willows, three or four young girls, with 
the latest summer novels in their hands, were 
swinging idly in their hammocks. 

Oh dear,’^ sighed one of them, as she twirled 
over the leaves of her book and glanced at its 
closing words, ^^oh dear, there is about as much 
sensation in this book as there is in an Egyptian 
mummy. The author certainly has a genius for 
stupidity; and, as yet, I haven’t discovered a 
genius for anything else.” 

^^Then why do you read it, Laura?” asked 
one of her companions. 

Why ? Oh, because I am stupid too, I sup- 
pose. I am sure I do not know any other reason, 
for really it is as hard work to read it as it is to 
drink poor coffee without cream or sugar. But if 
I have been stupid. I’ll be stupid no longer. Lie 
there, you witless thing;” and Laura tossed the 
despised book far off into the grass. And may 
he who finds you think more of you than I do. 
Girls, come; I want something fresh : let’s go to 
the beach.” 

^^To the beach?” echoed two or three sleepy 
voices. ^^Oh no, Laura; it is too warm.” 


THE ROAD CHOSEN. 


11 


^^Then stay where you are; only please excuse 
me from remaining in your interesting society 
any longer.^^ And springing from her hammock, 
Laura Stanton crossed the lawn and entered the 
house. 

Margery,’^ she called from the foot of the 
wide stair-case, ^^are you in your room?^^ 

Yes,’^ answered a pleasant voice. What is 
it, Laura 

Don’t you want to go to the beach ? 

With you ? Yes, if you will wait for me : I’ll 
be ready in five minutes.’’ And in little 
more than that time a young girl ran down the 
stairs and joined Laura, who was impatiently 
walking up and down the hall. 

Have I kept you waiting?” she asked. I’m 
sorry, but I’m ready now, Laura. Are we going 
alone ? ” 

Yes, I hope so, ” Laura answered, in a decided 
voice as they left the house. I’ve seen enough 
of the other girls for one day: they are all as 
sleepy and stupid as if they had just dined on 
poppies. ” 

Margery laughed a little, but at the same time 
she said : ^^How little patience you have with any- 
one who isn’t bright and lively, Laura! I am 
afraid you will be tired of me before our walk is 
over, for, to own the truth, I am very far from 
feeling as brilliant as a diamond to-day. ” 


12 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


I haven^t always patience with bright things 
either, ’’ Laura said, fretfully, as she opened her 
parasol. do wish that sun would hide some 
of its superfluous radiance behind a cloud. It is 
perfectly intolerable. ” 

^^You must remember it is mid-summer,?^ 
Margery answered. The sun in shining is only 
doing its duty, Laura. 

^^Very well; Fm sure I have no objection; 
only I wish it would not let its duty interfere 
with my ^omfort, ’’ Laura said, in a peevish 
voice. 

Perhaps it would not, if we were doing our 
duty, too, ’’ Margery said, with a little laugh that 
ended in a sigh. I am not perfectly sure that 
our duty calls us to the beach this afternoon ; are 
you, Laura 

Don^t begin to preach, I beg of you, Laura 
said, with quick impatience. One sermon a day 
is all I am willing to hear. 

You haven’t heard even that to-day, ” Mar- 
gery answered. 

No. And I am glad I haven’t. It is one of 
the pleasant things about going into the country 
for the summer that one is not expected — for 
propriety’s sake — to go to church at least once 
every Sabbath. ” 

I do not really suppose, though, that the fact 
that we are in the country is any good excuse for 


V' 

THE HOAD CHOSEN, 13 

our living like the heathen, Margery said, in a 
sober voice. 

Nonsense, Laura answered, scornfully. 

'What is the use of talking in that sanctimonious 
way? You are no better than the rest of us, 
Margery. Come now, confess. What have you 
been doing all day 

Doing ? Oh, I\e been writing letters, ” Mar- 
gery acknowledged with a careless laugh. It is a 
fortunate thing for me that every seventh day is 
Sunday — my letters would never get answered if 
it was not. 

There, it is just as I told you, Laura said, in 
triumph ; we are all alike. There ought to be a 
new commandment written for us, and this is the 
way it should read: ^Remember the Sabbath day, 
and do all your extra sleeping, and novel-reading, 
and letter-writing in it.’ Now if that only was the 
fourth commandment, I think we would have no 
difficulty in keeping it perfectly. ” 

Margery’s bright face looked for a moment 
very Serious. 

I am afraid we are worse than the heathen, 
Laura, ” she said ; they do not know the com- 
mandments, but we do know them, and yet do 
not obey them. ” % 

There, you are preaching again,” Laura said, 
reproachfully. Truly, Margery, I hardly know 
you to-day, you seem disposed to take such serious 
2 


14 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


views of such trifling matters. The ant-hills — 
and she poked irritably at one in the path with 
her parasol — are all Alps to you this afternoon, 
I believe. Hark! What bell is that?’^ she asked, 
in a changed voice, as forth on the still, sweet, 
summer air came the pleasant tones of a church 
bell. 

Why, it is that chapel bell, I suppose, Mar- 
gery explained, pointing, as she spoke, to a neat 
white chapel just opposite to them. 

What can it be ringing for at this hour?^^ 
^^For Sunday-school, probably. Don’t you see 
the children going in at the gate ? ” 

Laura glanced across the street at the groups of 
smiling, prettily-dressed children with a con- 
temptuous expression on her young face. 

What kind of a Sunday-school do you suppose 
they have in this out-of-the-way place?” she 
asked, in a scornful voice. 

I don’t know. In truth, I don’t know much 
about Sunday-schools in any place. Do you, 
Laura?” 

No. I do not know that I ever went to one 
in my life.” 

Nor I. Suppose, by way of variety, we go 
to-day, Laura.” 

^^Go to Sunday-school! What for?” Laura 
sharply demanded. 

‘‘ Why, I thought I told you. Just for variety’s 


THE HOAD CHOSEN, 


15 


sake. But then, seriously, Laura, it cannot harm 
us to go once, and see what a Sunday-school is 
like.^^ 

No. And, like some highly-recommended 
medicines, that will probably be its chief virtue. 
If it cannot harm us, it will not be likely to do us 
much good, either. However, Margery, I don’t 
care. We’ll go, if you want to. The day is dull, 
and I’m duller ; and this Sunday-school will prob- 
ably be best described by the superlative degree of 
that amusing adjective. So it will all be ^ much of 
a muchness,’ and I do like things to harmonize.” 

Always?” laughed Margery. ^^The sharper 
the contrast the better in this case, I should say. 
But cross over, Laura, and we’ll go in. May be we 
will find a cure for dullness here. Who knows ?” 

No one, I suppose,” Laura said, indifferently, 
as she followed Margery across the dusty street. 
And, without a thought of the One who was 
watching them, and who had guided their steps to 
that quiet chapel, the two girls entered it and took 
their seats. 

It was still early; and with curious eyes Mar- 
gery watched the children, as, with their bright, 
expectant faces, they came in, some singly, some 
in little smiling companies of two or three, and 
passed quietly to their classes. Especially she 
noticed the Bibles that, with few exceptions, were 
carefully carried in their little hands. 


16 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


^^Laura/^ she whispered soon, suppose some 
one here should ask us if we ever read the Bible 

should answer, I should tell them. No; not 
in vacation. I prefer novels,’^ Laura answered, 
carelessly. 

Margery did not smile as Laura expected she 
would ; instead, she looked still more disturbed. 

feel ashamed of myself when I look at these 
children, Laura,’’ she whispered again, in a few 
moments, ‘^and I wish I had a Bible here now.” 

It is but a few steps to the hotel,” Laura said, 
^^and if a Bible is so necessary to your happiness, 
you might run to your room and get your own.” 

might go to my room I know, Laura,” 
Margery replied ; but I should not find a Bible 
there, because — I did not bring one from home.” 

You packed only useful things in your trunk, 
I suppose,” Laura said, without the slightest 
sympathy for Margery’s serious mood. ^^Well, 
to be candid, so did I. Something has usually to 
be crowded out of every trunk, you know, as well 
as — according to Mrs. Whitney — out of every life. 
And so I left out my Bible to make room for my 
novels.” 

For the second time that day Laura’s thought- 
less words seemed to trouble Margery. 

^^Hush, please,” she said, pleadingly; ^Hhey are 
going to begin.” 

The brief opening exercises of the little school 


THE ROAD CHOSEN. 


17 


were soon over, and with a face full of interest, 
Margery was watching as the classes near her 
turned to their lessons, when a voice beside her 
said: 

^^Good afternoon. Miss Hamilton; I am glad to 
meet you here to-day/’ 

In great surprise Margery turned to the speaker, 
a pleasant-faced, gray-haired, old gentleman, who 
smiled kindly as he met her astonished eyes. 

She recognized him then as Professor Carter, a 
man of wide reputation in literary and scientific 
circles, and, like herself, for the last few weeks a 
sojourner in that quiet sea-side hamlet. Only a 
few mornings before, on the beach, Laura and 
herself, with several other young girls, had lis- 
tened with eager attention while Professor Carter 
had talked to them of jelly and star-fishes, and 
explained the wonderful construction and mar- 
velous beauty and adaptation of means to an end, 
in even the least and simplest of God’s creations. 
There had seemed nothing strange in seeing and 
hearing him then ; why was it, Margery wondered 
in even that first moment of recognition, that his 
presence in Sunday-school should cause her so 
mueh surprise? Whatever the reason, it was cer- 
tainly not because a Sunday-school was a new or a 
strange place to Professor Carter. 

^^Are you interested in Sunday-schools as well 
as star-fishes, Miss Hamilton ? ” he asked, pleas- 
2 * B 


18 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


antly. am. No studying I have ever done 
in other books has afforded me half the pleasure 
and profit I have gained from the study of my 
Bible. And now, that I am an old man, I still 
find an ever-fresh enjoyment in going over these 
Sabbath-school lessons and getting new insights 
into their meanings.’^ ^ 

Professor Carter’s kind words only deepened 
the strange sense of humiliation under which 
Margery was suffering that afternoon. She felt 
very unwilling to acknowledge just then that she 
knew nothing of Sunday-schools and their lessons; 
but, whatever her other faults might be, Margery 
possessed at least one queenly virtue; she was 
truthful. Not even to secure Professor Carter’s 
good opinion would she pretend to be better than 
she really was. And so now, as he waited for her 
answer, she said, with humble sincerity, — 

am afraid I do not know much about Sun- 
day-schools, Professor Carter. I do not think I 
was ever in one before.” 

There has been a sad omission, then, in your 
education, I fear. Miss Hamilton,” Professor Car- 
ter said, kindly. ^^But because a thing has been 
delayed or omitted, it by no means follows that it 
is never to find a place in our heart and life. 
Suppose, since we have met here now, and seem to 
be the only strangers present, we go over the lesson 
for to-day together?” 


THE ROAD CHOSEN. 


19 


^^You are very kind/^ Laura said, as Professor 
Carter looked at her. 

Oh, I should like it ever so much,^^ Margery 
said, in a glad, interested voice; ^^but,’^ and her 
bright face sobered a little, I am very sorry, but 
I have no Bible.^^ 

^^We started for the beach. Professor Carter,^^ 
Laura interposed, thinking she would place both 
]\Iargery and herself in as favorable a light as 
possible. ‘^We did not know then that there was 
a Sunday-school. Of course, if we had thought, 
wLen we left the house of coming here, w^e would 
have brought our Bibles with us.^^ 

am not telling a falsehood, for we could 
have borrowed Bibles,’^ the girl whispered to her 
reproachful conscience as she finislied her little 
speech. But Margery^s truthful spirit was alarmed 
at once. Laura’s words certainly implied that 
they had Bibles in their rooms, and Margery 
could not consent to be painted in any fairer 
colors than she deserved. 

^^Even if I had intended coming here, it w^ould 
not have made any difference in my case,” she 
said, humbly. am ashamed to own it, but I 
left my Bible at home.” 

What a contrast in character those two girls 
were ! Professor Carter thought, as he listened to 
them. And for a moment he sighed, as he re- 
flected how often the world would applaud the 


20 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


fair-seeming of the one and frown coldly on the 
pure sincerity of the other. But he only said, — 

^^You left your best behind you, then, I think. 
Miss Hamilton ; but I do not believe you will 
ever make such a mistake again, and for to-day, 
fortunately, I can supply your lack.’^ And he 
handed Margery his own well-worn and evidently 
much-read pocket Bible, and showing her the 
passage selected for study that day, began the 
lesson. 

Had Margery ever before in her young life 
had just such a lesson, or just such a teacher, as 
she had that Sabbath afternoon in that little chapel 
by the sea? She did not think so. Professor 
Carter taught like one who thoroughly understood 
his subject, and who was also thoroughly inter- 
ested in it ; and Margery listened as the pupils of 
such teachers are wont to listen. Even Laura 
was charmed out of her indifference, and drawing 
nearer to Margery, looked over the Bible with her 
and followed the verses as Professor Carter, in 
clear and forcible words, explained them. It was 
a new world into which he was leading his young 
listeners ; and to Margery it seemed a world she 
would never tire of exploring. 

^^How much there is in the Bible she said, 
earnestly. So much that is hidden, and that we, 
who just read the words carelessly, never see. I 
thought this lesson a very plain and simple one 


THE ROAD CHOSEN. 


21 


when we first read it over; but now it seems to 
me like the geode I once saw in a mineral cabi- 
net. It looked like nothing but a dull, round 
stone as I held it in my hand ; but the geologist 
opened it for me, and took it to the light, and then 
I saw that it was full of gems that glowed 'with 
beautiful fire. Oh, I am glad I came here to-day, 
and I am sure I shall never forget this lesson, 
Professor Carter.^^ 

I hope you will not,^^ Professor Carter quietly 
answered, and then he paused. 

It was not enough — though it was much — to 
have interested those young girls in the Bible as 
an attractive study. He would fain reveal it to 
them as a lamp unto their feet and a light unto 
their path. How, he silently questioned, should 
he do so ? How apply its deep, spiritual lessons 
to their hearts, and touch their consciences with 
its soleinii truths ? 

It wa^aura who gave him the clue he wanted. 

I think this has really been a very interesting 
lesson,^^ she said, breaking the silence that she 
supposed indicated that the teacher had finished his 
work ; but there is just one thing. Professor 
Carter, that I do not understand, and that is, why, 
in all religious teaching, so much stress is always 
laid upon faith. It seems very unnecessary to 
me. I think most of the people we meet believe 
the Bible. I am sure I do. And yet it is the 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


burden of all the sermons we hear, as well as of 
the Bible itself. It is always believe, believe. 
Why is it. Professor Carter ? 

With kind, but penetrating eyes. Professor 
Carter looked at the young girl. 

^^You say that you believe,’^ he said, kindly. 

Now, will you tell me just what you mean when 
you make that assertion 

Laura hesitated a little. Why I mean — I 
mean — I suppose I mean I don’t doubt,” she said, 
desperately, at last ; The Bible says a thing is 
true, and I believe it is, of course.” 

Just as you would believe me, if I should tell 
you that at this moment, as I look from that win- 
dow, I see an ocean steamer outward bound for 
Europe sailing along the beach?” 

^^Yes, sir, just so,” Laura said, in triumph, 
satisfied now that she had established her position, 
and proved beyond question that she believed. 

Very well,” was the quiet answer, that be- 
lief is good— as far it goes. But, tell me now, 
would your faith in that steamer carry you to 
Europe if you never took passage on it, and never 
placed your foot upon its deck ? ” 

Why, no, sir, of course not ; ” Laura said, 
while she secretly thought that, for a wise man. 
Professor Carter certainly asked very foolish ques- 
tions. 

Then your faith in that steamer is simply the 


THE ROAD CHOSEN. 


23 


mere careless assent that you give to an assertion 
of mine in which you feel little or no personal 
interest, and that does not in the least affect your 
life. Is it not so?’^ 

^^Yes, sir,^^ Laura said, slowly, and with a 
growing conviction that though Professor Carter’s 
questions might be foolish, they were, none the 
less, very uncomfortable questions to answer. Yes, 
sir, I suppose it is. And,” she added, a little de- 
fiantly, I do not understand how it can be any- 
thing else.” 

^‘No, perhaps you do not. But now let me ask 
you one question : Does your faith in the Bible — 
the faith 3^011 say you possess, and that allows you 
to leave that precious book at home unread — seem 
to you any more real and personal than your faith 
in that steamer? Will that faith bear you in safety 
through all the storms and perils you must en- 
counter on life’s ocean ? Can you trust it to sus- 
tain you when you come to the dark river we must 
some day cross, and to lead you through it all in 
triumph, a redeemed child, home to your Father’s 
house in heaven?” 

Very low and unsteady came the answer Laura 
felt forced to give, — 

I — do^ — not — know.” 

And do you think a faith that cannot give a 
decided answer to these solemn questions a trust- 
worthy or soul-satisfying thing? Do you not, in 


24 ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 

your heart, feel that there must be something better, 
something you have not yet grasped, not yet felt 
in your life?’^ 

What would be something better ? It was 
Margery who spoke now, and the tone of her voice 
showed how earnest and interested she was. 

The faith that a Christian has in the promises 
of his God ; the confidence of a trusting child in 
the protection of its father.^^ 

Something in those words sounded at once 
very strange and very beautiful to Margery. 

I am not sure,^^ she said, slowly, I am not 
sure that I understand just what you mean by a 
Christian, Professor Carter ? 

A beautiful light illumined Professor Carter^s 
noble face as he answered : 

I should call a Christian one who, loving Christ 
as his Saviour, is willing to obey Him and is not 
afraid to trust Him.^^ 

It must be hard to be such a Christian, Laura 
said. 

^^Hard? Perhaps so, save as love makes it 
easy.^^ 

And do you think there really are many such 
Christians ? Laura asked, in her secret heart 
anxious to change the conversation and make it 
less personal. 

^^What have the many to do with you and 
with me ? Professor Carter asked kindly, but 


THE ROAD CHOSEH. 


25 


very gravely. ‘‘ This is the question for us to 
ask, Miss Stanton, Are we such Christians, are 
we willing to be such ? 

How can I be ? The low question — the 
most solemn, perhaps, that in all her life she 
w^ould ever ask — came from Margery ; and, with 
trembling lips and moist eyes, she waited for Pro- 
fessor Carter’s answer. 

^ ^^By following Christ,” he said, gently ; there 
is no other way.” 

But I do not know how to do that ;” and the 
tears Margery could no longer restrain, fell now on 
the Bible in her hand. 

Prayer and your Bible will tell you how.” 

^^But I don’t know — I don’t understand,” Mar- 
gery said again, in a tearful, pleading voice. It 
all seems so dim, so far away ; I cannot grasp it, 
and I want something living, something real to 
cling to.” 

^^Then draw near to Christ,” was the tender 
answer. The woman who touched but the hem 
of his garment knew how real he was.” 

There was a little stir all about them just then. 
The lessons were ended, and the. children were 
rising to sing. Margery brushed her tears away, 
and, closing the Bible, handed it to Professor 
Carter. He took it, and took at the same time 
the little hand that offered it. 

I am to leave Quantuck to-morrow,” he said, 
3 


26 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


^^and I may never see you again, Miss Hamilton. 
Before we part to-day, will you give me a promise 
that will make me very happy? Will you promise 
me to be a Christian ? Will you read your Bible, 
and pray until the way that leads to heaven grows 
plain, and then will you walk in it ? 

Yes,^^ Margery humbly promised ; I will if 
I can/^ 

Then I shall think of you in the future with 
none but pleasant recollections and bright antici- 
pations,^^ Professor Carter continued ; for I know 
you can if you will. There is an old and wonder- 
ful book. Miss Hamilton, — not much read in these 
days of trashy, sentimental novels, I am sorry to 
say, — that describes a journey of a pilgrim on his 
way from this world to heaven. That grand old 
pilgrim is but a type of all Christians. Life 
comes to each of us with different gifts, and yet it 
is but a pilgrimage for us all. What its end will 
be depends entirely upon the guide we follow, the 
road we choose. That you may choose the one 
that, whatever its windings, will conduct you 
surely and safely inside the gate of the Celestial 
City, is the best prayer I can offer for you now, as 
I bid you good-by.^^ 

Where are you going now, Margery Laura 
asked, when, a few minutes later, the two young 
girls stood once more alone in the street. 

I am going to heaven,’^ Margery answered, in 


THE ROAD CHOSEN. 


27 


a dreamy voice, that showed that her thoughts 
were still far away from the scenes around her. 

^^What!^^ Laura exclaimed iu astonishment; 

have you lost your reason, Margery ; what do 
you mean ? 

Laura’s sharp question recalled Margery to the 
consciousness that she was living in a world that 
was not very apt to strew the pilgrim’s road to 
heaven with roses. Laura’s tone did not promise 
her much sympathy ; but she was too much in 
earnest to be silent. 

I mean just this,” she said, in a low, tender 
voice; I mean to be a better girl than I have 
been. Laura, I mean to be a Christian. And I 
want you to be one, too. Laura, dear, we have 
been together all our lives. Come with me now, 
and let us go to heaven together.” 

I am very well content with this world at 
present,” Laura answered, with cool indifference. 

am not at all anxious to exchange it for an- 
other.” 

Margery’s eyes filled; but neither tears nor gen- 
tle pleadings could avail with Laura then. And so 
in a silence that was full of solemn meaning, the two 
young girls, who had come that Sabbath afternoon 
to one of life’s mysterious turning-points, where a 
deliberate choice, that would influence all their 
future years, must be made, walked home to their 
hotel. 


CHAPTER 11. 


IN THE SLOUOH OF DESPOND. 


“ But when Christiana came up to the Slough of Despond, 
she began to be at a stand/ ^ — Pilgrim^ s Progress, Part II. 



ARGERY^S first impulse, when, once mo]*e 


in her room alone, she had locked her door 
and taken off her hat, was to sit down and review 
the events of that afternoon. 

How strange they all seemed ! Only three 
hours before she was simply a bright, pleasant 
girl, careless and thoughtless, like the rest of her 
young friends : doing nothing that she supposed 
to be very wrong, but yet not consciously trying 
in all things to do right : not always satisfied 
with herself, perhaps ; but still very far from 
condemning herself, or from feeling that any 
great and radical change was needed in her heart 
and life. 

And now she sat there pledged by her solemn 
promise to Professor Carter to be a Christian. 

Did she really want to be one ? 

She had thought so, while in Sunday-school ; 


( 28 ) 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND, 


29 


she had felt sure she did, in fact, until something 
in Laura’s cold, unsympathetic manner had chilled 
her enthusiasm, and reminded her that she might 
have to renounce much that the world called 
good, if from that hour she set out to walk 
heavenward. 

Could she renounce it ? She was not sure. 

In truth, she had a very hazy, indistinct idea 
of .what the Christian life really was, and of 
what, as a Christian, she sought herself to do and 
be. She could not be just as she had always been, 
she supposed ; but just how she was to be differ- 
ent she was puzzled to decide. 

She was the only daughter of wealthy, worldly 
parents who lived for fashion and power; and 
who, in their absorbing interest in this w^orld, 
forget the solemn truth that there was another and 
more enduring world for which they ought to be 
prepared. The Bible they regarded as an old- 
fashioned, unreadable book, but still one that it 
was very proper and respectable to possess ; and 
so they gave it a place in their library, but cast 
it out of their lives. Church-going was another 
old-fashioned custom the world still continued to 
consider eminently proper and respectable ; and so 
they held their pew in the most fashionable church 
in their neighborhood, and occupied it occasion- 
ally, and in doing that, considered that they had 
done all that could justly be required of them, 
si 


30 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Aud iu this worldly home and atmosphere Mar- 
gery had grown up, until now she stood upon the 
verge of womanhood, well taught in much that 
it is useful and desirable to know, but sadly igno- 
rant of her Bible and of her Saviour, of heaven and 
the way there. And never, until to-day, had it 
seemed to her very necessary that she should know 
much about those solemn matters. 

Now, as she sat alone in her quiet room that 
Sabbath afternoon, this question kept pressing for 
a positive answer. Would she truly keep her 
promise? Would she fully and firmly decide to be 
a Christian? 

For a little while she hesitated. She could not 
forget that she had promised ; neither could she 
satisfy the new, strange hunger of her soul that 
seemed craving something more and better than 
it had ever yet known. 

Yes,^^ she finally decided, said I would be a 
Christian, and so I will be.^^ 

Her next thought was : ^^How am I to become 
one ? what ought I to do 

Study her Bible and pray!’^ Professor Carter 
had told her. 

Then Margery concluded her first want was a 
Bible. She had none, but perhaps Laura’s mother, 
Mrs. Stanton, in whose care her parents had 
placed her for the summer, possessed one. She 
would ask her, and, leaving her room, Margery 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 31 

went in search of Mrs. Stanton. She found her 
sitting on the piazza absorbed in a book. 

^^Ah! Margery she said, pleasantly, as the 
young girl came to her side. I have scarcely 
seen you to-day, dear ; sit down.^^ And as Mar- 
gery obeyed, the lady continued : 

I am reading the most wonderful book, Mar- 
gery, and I want you and Laura to read it as 
soon as I have finished it.^^ 

What is it Margery asked, almost forget- 
ting her errand in her interest in the new book. 

George Eliotts ^Romola.^ It is certainly a 
grand book. I do not believe a more powerful 
character than Tito was ever described by a nov- 
elist: so pleasing and lovable in the beginning, 
and then so slowly but surely growing worthless 

and contemptible, just because he hadnT 

Hadn’t what Margery asked curiously, as 
Mrs. Stanton paused in her criticism. 

^AVhy, I hardly know myself!’^ Mrs. Stanton 
answered. But some important element was 
wanting in his character, and so when he was ex- 
posed to temptations he had not strength to resist 
them.^^ 

‘‘ I should say that missing element was Chris- 
tian principle,^^ quietly remarked a lady sitting 
near Mrs. Stanton. Probably nothing was far- 
ther from George Eliot’s tliought than to write 
a plea for personal religion or Christian education. 


32 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


but I always feel as if she had, unconsciously, 
written a very powerful one, when I read 
^Eomola,' and see in its clear unfolding of charac- 
ter how impossible it is, without Christian princi- 
ple, for even the best-intentioned nature to stand 
firm in the hour of temptation/^ 

Margery looked wishfully after the lady, who 
had just then arose and left the piazza. Christian 
principle ! Vaguely the girl felt that must be 
what she would need if she adhered to her new 
resolve, and that thought reminded her of her 
object in seeking Mrs. Stanton. 

Mrs. Stanton,’^ she said, a little timidly, ^^1 
want to ask a favor : Will you lend me a Bible 

Bible,^’ Mrs. Stanton repeated. ^^Why, 
my dear, what do you want of a Bible V’ 

want to read it,^’ Margery answered, won- 
dering, as she did so, why her voice should trem- 
ble in speaking of the Bible, when she was sure it 
would not if she were speaking about a novel. 

^^Read it?’^ Mrs. Stanton echoed in a tone of 
polite amusement ; ^^cannot you find anything 
more interesting than the Bible to read, Mar- 
gery T 

do not want anything else, Mrs. Stanton.^^ 
Well, my dear, though I do not admire your 
taste, I wish I could gratify it ; but I did not 
bring a Bible with me.^^ 

^^Oh dear,^^ Margery thought, wonder 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 


33 


if people generally are in the habit of crowding 
their Bibles out of their trunks and leaving them 
at home 

She was still considering that sober question 
when Mrs. Stanton glanced up from her book and 
noticed her disappointed face. 

Margery/^ she said, if I didn^t bring a Bible 
I did bring the next thing to it, a prayer-book, 
and if that will answer your purpose you are 
welcome to it. You will find it on the table 
in my room.^^ 

Thank you,’^ Margery said, gratefully. And 
going to Mrs. Stanton’s room, she secured the lit- 
tle prayer-book, and then, returning to her 
own room, sat down with it in her hand and 
looked at it curiously. Slowly, after awhile, she 
opened it and turned the leaves. There was just 
one thing she wanted to find — something that 
would tell her what, as a Christian, she ought to 
be and to do. 

The rustling sound she made in turning the 
leaves ceased presently. She had found, she 
thought, what she wanted, and the young girl’s 
head drooped low over the little book as she 
read : 

My duty towards God, is to believe in him, 
to fear him, and to love him with all my heart, 
with all my mind, with all my soul, and with all 
my strength ; to worship him, to give him thanks, 

c 


34 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


to put my whole trust in him; to call upon 
him, to honor his holy name, and his Word, 
and to serve him truly all the days of my life. 

Margery trembled as she finished that solemn 
sentence, but still she read on : 

My duty towards my neighbor, is to love him 
as myself — and to do to all men, as I would they 
should do unto me: to love, honor and succor 
my father and mother ; to honor and obey the civil 
authority; to submit myself to all my governors, 
teachers, spiritual pastors and masters; to order 
myself lowly and reverently to all my betters; 
to hurt nobody by word or deed ; to be true 
and just in all my dealings; to bear no malice 
nor hatred in my heart ; to keep my hands from 
picking and stealing, and my tongue from evil 
speaking, lying, and slandering ; to keep my 
body in temperance, soberness, and chastity ; not 
to covet nor desire other men’s goods, but to 
learn and labor truly to get mine own living, and 
to do my duty in that state of life unto which it 
shall please God to call me.” 

Was that what it was to be a Christian ? 

Then who, oh, who could be sufficient for these 
things ? 

Margery dropped the little book with a feeling 
of utter helplessness. How could she ever live 
that perfect life ? 

She had not courage to turn the page, and so 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND, 


35 


she missed the next words of tender, helpful coun- 
sel, and there was no good angel near her to whis- 
per that love to Christ was the first step in the 
Christian life, and that that love alone could make it 
possible to keep the laws of Christ’s kingdom. 

Margery’s knowledge of Christ’s love was 
small. She knew little more of the New Testa- 
ment than she did of the Koran. Her only 
thought was that, as a Christian, she must make 
and keep herself good, and already the task set be- 
fore her seemed far beyond her strength. 

I really do not know how I am to do it,” she 
thought, the next morning, while dressing ; but 
I’ll try. I’ll try to-day to be perfectly kind and 
gentle, and good in every way and to everybody.” 
And cherishing these lovely intentions in her 
mind, but trusting only in her own strength to 
perform them, Margery left her room without 
prayer, as was her custom, and joined her friends 
at the breakfast-table. 

Usually, Margery was easily pleased at the 
table, and thoughtful and considerate of the ser- 
vants. But that morning, in spite of her good 
resolutions, she felt, for some unaccountable rea- 
son, peevish and fault-finding. 

She sent away one cup of coffee because it was 
cold, and another because it was too strong. 
Nothing pleased her fastidious appetite, and when 
the waiter, embarrassed by her complaints^ misun- 


36 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


derstood her order and brought her an omelet 
when she had requested poached eggs^ she pushed 
back her chair and declared that with such stupid 
servants it was impossible to get a decent breakfast. 

What is the matter, Margery? Laura asked, 
in surprise. I never knew you to be so disagree- 
able at the table before.’^ 

Ordinarily, Laura could say what she pleased, 
and Margery would not take offense ; but now, the 
very fact that there was truth in her remark, 
made Margery resent it. 

I do not consider myself any more disagree- 
able than the occasion requires,’^ she said, 
haughtily. 

Oh, well,^^ Laura retorted, with equal spirit, 
if the occasion requires such a display of temper 
on your part, I am glad it does not require me to 
submit to your caprices/^ and, with a toss of her 
head, she left the table. 

Margery looked behind her with a serious, regret- 
ful face. What was she doing ? Making every one 
who came in contact with her, irritable and uncom- 
fortable in the beginning of her first day’s at- 
tempt to live as a Christian. Was that being 
kind and gentle and good? It seemed very 
strange to the discouraged girl that, in less than 
an hour after making her good resolves, she should 
fail so miserably in performing them. What did 
it mean ? 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 


37 


If Margery had been farther along in her Chris- 
tian course, she would have known that good reso- 
lutions are something Satan will never allow us 
to execute if, by any art, he can frustrate or pre- 
vent us. To every good intention he will oppose 
some hindrance or temptation ; and when we re- 
solve in our own might, neglectful of the prayer 
that can alone give us power to perform, it is little 
wonder if we fail and fall. 

Margery did not know this ; she was only pain- 
fully conscious of her shortcomings, and mortified 
and angry with herself because of them, and, con- 
sequently, when she left the dining-room and joined 
a party of gay, young friends on the piazza, she 
was just in the mood to be vexed with every trifle 
and to fall an easy victim to every temptation. 

Oh, Margery said one of the young girls, as 
she approached them, didn^t you lend Miss 
Chauncey ^Sir Gibbie ^ 

Yes,’^ Margery answered ; what of it ? 

Oh, you ought to have heard her criticism upon 
it. It is too good to be lost, so I’ll have to tell it 
to you ; only I cannot give you the tone and man- 
ner with which she emphasized her words. Those 
you will have to imagine.” 

I have no fears but my imagination will be 
equal to the effort,” Margery said, scornfully. 

What did she say ? ” 

Why, she said Miss Hamilton praised Mac- 
4 


38 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Donald’s ^ Sir Gibbie ’ so highly she thought she 
would like to read it, and so she borrowed it of 
her. But, really, she was surprised at Miss Ham- 
ilton’s poor taste. For her part, she did not en- 
joy low society in books any better than she did 
in real life ; and, after reading the first few chap- 
ters in ^ Sir Gibbie,’ with their common, vulgar 
characters and scenes, she found it quite impossible 
to read any farther. Miss Hamilton might, per- 
haps, enjoy such a book, but she did not under- 
stand how refined people could, and she was very 
thankful to say she could not.” 

Margery’s face flushed with anger. That im- 
plied sneer on her literary taste touched her just 
where she was, foolishly, very sensitive; but 
before she could speak one of the girls ex- 
claimed, — 

Here comes Miss Chauncey now.” And the 
next moment that young lady joined them, and 
Margery noticed at once that she held the con- 
demned book in her hand. 

Good-morning, Miss Hamilton,” she said, 
politely. I have been looking for you, and am 
glad to find you. I want to return ^ Sir Gibbie’;” 
and as she spoke she offered the book with a polite 
thank you ! ” to Margery. 

Here was a fine opportunity for Margery at 
least to display the grace of silence ; ” but in her 
mortified pride and vanity she missed it. 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 


39 


You do not like the book, I believe/^ she said 
as she took it from Miss Chauiicey. 

“ No, really,^^ Miss Chauncey answered, in some 
surprise ; I cannot say that I do. It depicts such 
low life, and its characters are so vulgar and coarse, 
that I cannot enjoy it.’^ 

And so,^^ Margery said, in a cool, sarcastic 
tone, while her eyes flashed and her cheeks burned 
with her foolish, resentful feelings, you make 
me think of a man, who, in looking on the 
ground for worms, loses sight of the sky, and is 
deaf to the birds that sing above his head. In 
dwelling on what you are pleased to call the low 
characters in the book, you have entirely over- 
looked all its beautiful thoughts, and all the 
helpful, precious lessons it is designed to teach. 
Well,’^ she concluded scornfully, as she turned to 
one of the girls, I am not, probably, as cultivated 
as Miss Chauncey, and not as much accustomed to 
high life, and good society, and, quite likely, my 
taste in books is low and vulgar. But I am 
thankful to be able to say that I do truly enjoy 
MacDonald’s writings, and I endorse ^ Sir Gibbie ’ 
as one of his most beautiful works. And if dear 
old Janet, and Robert, and Donal Grant are low, 
vulgar characters, then I am afraid Miss Chauncey 
will not feel at home in heaven, for she will find 
just such characters there.” 

Three cheers for Margery ! ” called out one of 


40 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


the mischievous girls ; while Miss Chauncey, as 
she turned angrily away, revenged herself by 
remarking : Miss Hamilton's temper appears 
closely to resemble her taste, and I am glad to say 
I do not envy her the possession of either/^ 

Well, Margery, Laura exclaimed now, if 
it is in this way that you intend to go to heaven, 
it is my opinion that you will be a long time 
getting there, and I had a little rather take my 
chance alone than in your company/^ 

Poor Margery’s conscience was already bitterly 
reproaching her for her unkind and uncalled-for 
speech, and, turning from the group of laughing 
thoughtless girls, she hurried to her room feeling 
deeply ashamed and almost discouraged. 

Oh dear,” she sighed, I may as well give up 
at once. I believe I have been more hateful and 
disagreeable this morning than I ever was before in 
my life. If this is what my efforts to be a Chris- 
tian are to end in, I don’t know but it would be 
better not to try again. Still,” she said to herself 
soon, I have only just begun, and I will not 
give up because of one failure. I will try a little 
longer.” 

True to her resolve for the next few days, poor 
Margery did try. She found a Bible at the village 
store, and, beginning with Genesis, she read chapter 
after chapter with great care, but, as she sadly felt, 
with little comfort. She tried to pray ; and now 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND, 41 

a humiliating sense of her own sinfulness began, 
as never before, to grieve and oppress her. Often 
she was assailed with the sad temptation to believe 
that her prayers could not be heard, because she 
was so far from being what now she felt she ought 
to be. And while she was enduring this inward 
conflict, in her daily life she was moody and irri- 
table, dissatisfled, as never before, with herself, and 
constantly making new and painful efforts, that 
only ended in sorrowful failures, to reach the 
standard she had set before herself. 

It was a sad time, but as to Christian in the 
Slough of Despond, so to Margery Help came 
at last. She was sitting one morning on the beach, 
a little apart from the gay crowd that thronged 
the sands, looking off* at the vast waters spread 
before her with eyes that took little notice of the 
shimmer and shine of the tossing waves, when a 
hand was suddenly extended to her, and a well- 
remembered voice said, How do you do. Miss 
Hamilton ? 

With a pleased face Margery looked up. 

^^Oh, is it really Professor Carter she ex- 
claimed, joyfully. 

Yes, really Professor Carter/^ that gentleman 
answered with a smile. 

I am so glad to see you, sir,^^ Margery said, 
but it is a great surprise. I thought you had 
left Quantuck.’^ 


4 * 


42 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Your thought was true. I did leave Quan- 
tuck as I told you I was to do/^ Professor Carter 
explained ; but I came back last night with an 
invalid friend, whom I hope this pure air will 
benefit.. And once here my next thought was of 
my Sunday-school scholar. I trust she has a good 
report to give me of herself.^^ And the kind eyes 
of the old man looked searchingly into Margery^s 
young, but very sober face. 

No,^^ the girl said, with sad truthfulness ; I 
have not a good report to give. Professor Carter. 
I have been in trouble ever since I saw you last.^^ 

Trouble ! Why is that he asked, gravely. 

I don’t know why,” Margery said, in a humble 
voice. It seems very strange to me. But, Pro- 
fessor Carter, I have been trying to be good — to 
be a Christian, as I promised — and instead of be- 
ing good I have been more wicked than I ever 
was before in my life. I cannot be good. And I 
am discouraged. I do not believe it is any use for 
me to try to be a Christian.” 

Poor child !” the old man said, as he sat down 
beside her; have you but just started, and are 
you already in the Slough of Despond ? ” 

Margery was still a stranger to the Pilgrim’s 
Progress,’' and did not understand his allusion, but 
the name struck her at once. 

Yes,” she said slowly, I believe that is just 
where I am. But,” and she looked with pleading 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 


43 


eyes at Professor Carter, the trouble is, that I do 
not know how to get out/^ 

^^Do not feel disheartened/^ was the kind 
answer. ‘‘ It is easy to fall in, but the ^ steps ’ by 
which we must climb out are very near and plain. 
When we are most conscious of our own helpless- 
ness the Helper is often nearest to us. Now that 
you have learned — and hard though you may 
think it, it is a precious lesson — that you are not 
able, in your own strength, to save yourself or do 
anything right, why will you not commit your 
cause to Christ and let him do all things for 
you?^^ 

Margery pondered that question in silence for a 
few moments. 

How can I do that ? she asked soon. 

Simply by trusting to his strength instead of 
your own.^^ 

But Ido not know how to trust.^^ And Mar- 
gery^s face and voice both told that her trouble 
was very great. 

^^Have you ever been in any great danger 
Professor Carter asked, kindly. 

No,^^ Margery said, not in any that I re- 
member. Never in any, I am sure, that my 
father was not strong enough to save me from.^^ 

Then, if any danger threatened you now, or if 
there was something you felt obliged to do for 
which your strength was not equal, you would feel 


44 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


safe, would you not, if your father was near, or if 
you could go to him and lay both your task and 
yourself in his hands ? 

O, yes/^ Margery said, with glad assurance, 
it would all be right then, when my father took 
charge of it/^ 

Then the love and confidence you can so easily 
give to your father, can you not also give to one 
stronger and wiser and tenderer than even he ? 
Can you not see Christ waiting before you now, 
and saying to you, as you struggle with your sins 
and vainly try to make yourself better : ^ My child, 
give, up your useless efforts and come to me. Let 
your burden drop into my hands. I am able 
to do exceeding abundantly above all that you can 
ask or think.’ 

Margery did not answer at once ; but soon, with 
a changed face, she looked at Professor Carter. 

And is that all it means to be a Christian 
she asked. 

Yes, that is all ; but oh, how much that all in- 
cludes ! 

Margery hardly noticed Professor Carter’s last 
words. 

It is so different from what I imagined,” she 
said, in a bright, relieved voice. I supposed my 
thoughts and words and actions must all be 
changed ; and I have been watching them and try- 
ing with all my might to make them perfect. I 


IN THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND, 


45 


thought being a Christian meant being good in all 
such things/’ 

Such things are the results of one’s being a 
Christian,” was the quiet answer ; they are the 
beautiful fruits that show that the root is alive and 
healthy. And in every true Christian life they 
follow as naturally as the bud expands into the 
flower. But to be a Christian, my child, does not 
mean, primarily, to be a law-keeper — though it 
includes the keeping of the law — it means first, 
and before all else, to be a Christ-lover.” 

Margery,” called Mrs. Stanton just then from 
her seat, a short distance from them, Margery, 
come ; it is time we went back to the house.” 

Very reluctantly Margery arose. 

I must say good-by again,” Professor Carter 
said, as he extended his hand. I am sorry to 
say that I am going away this afternoon.” 

^^And won’t I see you again, sir?” Margery 
asked, in a voice that seemed to plead for an 
affirmative answer. 

Not to-day, nor to-morrow, I fear, but some 
time, I trust. And then I shall hope to hear that 
my little pilgrim is going steadily on in the way 
that is set before her.” 

I will try to do so,” Margery softly promised. 

Oh, sir,” she added, gratefully, how glad I am 
you came to-day ! how can I ever thank you for 
the help you have given me ?” 


46 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


By some day, if it is ever in your power, giv- 
ing the same or better help to some other who may 
need it,” Professor Carter answered. That is 
the beautiful law of all true life, my child. We 
receive from one only to pass on to another. And 
now, I must not keep your friends waiting. And 
so, once more, in all the fullness of its beautiful 
old Saxon significance of God be with you — good- 
by." 


CHAPTER III. 


OUT OF THE WAY. 

‘‘ ‘ What dost thou here, Christian ? ’ said he, at which words 
Christian knew not what to answer ; wherefore at present he 
stood speechless before him/^ — Pilgrim^s Progress, 

"TT was a damp, gloomy morning ; gray curtains 
of sea-fog enveloped the house, hiding from 
view the street and all surrounding objects. One 
could not even walk on the piazza without feeling 
tbe fine, light mist, that, penetrating through 
warm wraps, chilled alike one^s flesh and spirits 
and ruthlessly destroyed the freshness of daintily- 
fluted summer dresses and straightened the curl 
and wave of carefully-arranged hair. There was 
no denying that the weather was very disagree- 
able; the wind never blew more directly from the 
east in Bleak House than it did that morning 
in Quantuck, and it was evident, even to the most 
hopeful, that beach-going, the one grand occupa- 
tion of summer visitors to the sea-shore, must 
for that day be abandoned. 

That fact might be a disappointment to some, 

( 47 ) 


48 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


but apparently it mattered little to the group of 
young girls who had possession of one of the 
parlors, and were talking and laughing in true 
girlish fashion over their crewels and boxes of 
French bon-bons. 

Some very important subject was evidently un- 
der discussion; so Margery thought as, passing the 
parlor-door, she glanced in, and then, in answer to 
Laura’s beckoning hand, went nearer and joined 
the group. 

^^Oh, Margery!” said one of the girls, we were 
just wishing for you. Guess what we are going to 
do Saturday night?” 

^^Go to bed like sensible girls, I suppose,” 
Margery said, as she dropped into a vacant chair. 

^^Well, perhaps we may before morning, but 
we sha’n’t be in any hurry to do that. We are 
going to have a masquerade ball, Margery. Mrs. 
Eichman has planned it and made all the arrange- 
ments, and it is going to be a grand affair ; the 
finest party of the kind ever given in Quantuck, 
she says.” 

^^Why do you have it Saturday night?” Mar- 
gery asked. 

<^Why, because that is decidedly the most suit- 
able night. There will be more gentlemen out 
from the city then than at any other time, and, be- 
sides, we could not get ready sooner. We will 
have only four days for preparation as it is, and 


OUT OF THE WAY^ 


49 


we cannot wait any longer, for next week will be 
the first of September, and you know there will 
be a great breaking-up then in the house, as many 
will be going away/^ 

^^Yes; I am going myself then,^^ Margery re- 
marked, half-rising as she spoke, as if she had 
quite a mind to go at once. 

^^Well then, that is only an additional reason 
for having the party Saturday night. Come, 
Margery, don’t go; sit down again and don’t 
look so sober. You will join us, won’t you ? 

Margery did not answer that question. It of- 
fered her a good opportunity to show her colors, 
and quietly, but firmly, refuse to do anything 
doubtful that could be suspected of dishonoring 
them. But, like many another, Margery was not 
ready for such open and loyal allegiance. It 
seemed much easier and pleasanter to try to com- 
promise the question, and in some way manage to 
escape without a positive, unhesitating no. 

^^How can you have the party Saturday night 
without encroaching on the Sabbath?” was her 
next sober question. 

Oh, easily ; for, like Cinderella, we are all go- 
ing to stop at the first stroke of twelve.” 

^^That was just what Cinderella failed to do, if 
I am not mistaken.” 

‘‘Well,” Laura broke in impatiently, “what if 
she did? If I remember the story, her failure 

6 D 


50 ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 

was the best thing that could have happened to 
her. And if Saturday night there should be any 
Cinderellas here who lose their slippers because 
they are a little tardy, I do not myself believe it 
will be an unpardonable crime. We will all be 
quiet and asleep by sunrise, and sunrise is early 
enough to count the beginning of any day from. 
So don’t try to talk nonsense any longer, Margery, 
but just be sensible and do like the rest of us.” 

^^Yes, do, Margery,” coaxed another of the 
girls. ^‘You will lose the greatest fun of the 
season if you don’t. We have all been choosing 
our characters this morning ; now, what do you 
think I am going to be?” 

Cinderella herself, perhaps,” Margery an- 
swered. 

^^No; at least not intentionally in the beginning. 
I am going to be the little old woman in Mother 
Goose, who swept the cobwebs out of the sky ; and 
if I don’t sweep the cobwebs away from some 
conceited eyes next Saturday night, then my name 
won’t be EfBe Moffat.” 

Margery moved restlessly in her chair. She 
wished she could get away from the girls, and yet 
she did not know how to go without vexing 
them. 

^^Have you all chosen?” she asked, for the sake 
of something to say. Laura, what are you going 
to be?” 


OUT OF THE WAY, 51 

Yes, Laura, what? You haven’t told us yet,” 
chimed in Effie. 

Laura drew down her pretty face, wrinkled her 
forehead and puckered her rosy lips, and drawled, 
with slow decision, through her nose, won’t 
believe anything, Josiah Allen, till I’ve got holt 
of it.” 

^^Oh, Josiah Allen’s wife,” laughed two or three 
of the girls. Laura, that will be splendid. 
Now, Margery, it is your turn to choose. What 
character will you take?” 

Margery hesitated. I — must — think— about 

it,” she said, slowly. And then, as her conscience 
urged her to be more decided, she added, — 
don’t know; perhaps I won’t take any.” 

^^Not take any? Oh, Margery, you must. If 
you are not in costume, we won’t let you go.” 

Perhaps it won’t break my heart if you don’t,” 
Margery tried to say playfully. 

But her answer was received with a perfect 
storm of expostulation. 

^^Come now, Margery, don’t say that; you know 
you do not want to be singular,” Laura urged. 

^^Yes, come, Margery, you know we will all 
feel sorry if you don’t join us,” coaxed Effie. 

And, ^^Oh, do, do, say you’ll dress, Mar- 
gery,” pleaded another of the girls. ^^We have 
all been so united and had such pleasant times 
together this summer, now don’t, just as we are 


52 ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 

♦ 

going to separate, spoil half our enjoyment by 
refusing to join us in this party. You haven’t 
any very particular reason for refusing, have you?” 

^^No,” Margery answered, slowly, I don’t know 
as I have, only — I am afraid — it isn’t right — for 
me.” 

^^Not right for you,” exclaimed one of the girls. 

Well, your eyes must be possessed of wonderful 
magnifying power if you can see any harm in it, 
either for yourself or us. There comes Mrs. 
Stanton now,” she continued, as that lady looked 
smilingly in at the door, let’s ask her opinion.” 
And acting at once upon her own suggestion, the 
young girl called, — 

Mrs. Stanton, please come here a moment.” 

And as Mrs. Stanton approached them, hastened 
to say, — 

^‘Mrs. Stanton, please tell us now: do you 
think there is any harm in our having a masque- 
rade ball Saturday night?” 

^^No, there is no harm in your having a mas- 
querade or any other kind of a ball, either on 
Saturday night or any other night,” Mrs. Stanton 
decidedly answered. Why do you ask?” 

^^Oh, it is only a question of conscience,” Effie 
explained. 

You better let it alone, then,” Mrs. Stanton 
advised. People do not trouble themselves 
much with such questions nowadays, except, in- 


OUT OF THE WAY. 53 

deed, a few rigid fanatics, who would have you 
believe that everything is sinful except psalm- 
singing.’^ And, having delivered her worldly- 
wise speech, the lady swept from the room. 

There now, Margery, I hope you are con- 
vinced,” Effie said, quickly. Come ; don’t hesi- 
tate any longer. Decide at once, and say you’ll 
dress and be happy with the rest of us.” 

Poor Margery, as she listened to these entreaties, 
felt like one between two fires. Conscience was 
urging her to come bravely out, and plainly give 
her reasons for refusing to attend the party. But 
a dread of being, as Laura had said, singular ; ” 
a great unwillingness to say or do anything that 
might expose her to ridicule, and — strongest of all, 
perhaps — a secret desire to go with her young 
friends, all drew her towards them. While she 
hesitated and sought to find some way by which 
she might satisfy her conscience and at the same 
time please herself, Laura pitilessly attacked her. 

Margery is turning Puritan,” she said, scorn- 
fully. She is growing afraid of everything 
bright and pleasant, for fear it is wicked. I am 
not sure but she \vould cover the sun with sack- 
cloth if she could, and paint all the flowers black. 
I must say, some people do take the strangest and 
most unreasonable fancies into their heads. And 
then they expect us to believe that they are right 
and we are wrong. Well, all I have to say is, that 
5 * 


54 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


they are welcome to their religion, and may keep 
it if they wish to. If they cannot make it attrac- 
tive and cheerful, there is no danger of my envy- 
ing it or wanting to enjoy it with them.^^ 

The hot color rushed to Margery^s troubled face. 
Laura’s words were especially hard to bear, be- 
cause only the day before Margery had urged her 
once more to resolve with her to be a Christian. 
And, for a little while, the girl had seemed softened 
and almost persuaded. Now the Tempter came with 
one of his most subtle suggestions, and whispered 
that perhaps it would be better for Margeiy to 
yield and attend the party, for that would show 
that religion did not frown on pleasant things, and 
then, may be, Laura would be more willing to be- 
lieve in it and seek it for herself. 

Even while these thoughts were forming in her 
mind, Effie exclaimed, — 

Turning Puritan, are you, Margery ? Then I 
have just thought of a lovely dress for you. You 
shall go as ^Priscilla, the Puritan Maiden.’ I 
know just how you ought to dress, and I’ll help 
you to get everything you need, even to a spinning- 
wheel ! And now, Margery, you will go with us, 
won’t you?” 

Yes, Margery,” Laura broke in again, if 
you ever expect to influence me — for good — as I 
supppse you would say, you must not put every 
innocent amusement under the ban, and you must 


OUT OF THE WAY. 


55 


not look like a walking collection of penitential 
hymns, either. You must be just as bright and 
lovely and attraetive as you can be, and then, of 
course, you will make me wish to be like 
you.^^ 

Yes, that is so, Margery,^’ cried, in one breath, 
two or three of the girls ; and Margery did not 
stop to consider whether the things that Laura 
called lovely were the same that St. Paul meant 
when he said ; Whatsoever things are lovely, . . . 
think on these things.^^ She truly loved to be 
popular ; she did want to please her friends ; and 
she was not willing to own to herself that a ball- 
room was hardly the place in which Christ would 
seek for or wish to find his followers. Nor would 
she acknowledge, frankly, that a Saturday night 
revel was not the best preparation for the Sabbath, 
nor likely to make her, like the women of old, run 
early in the morning to find her Lord. 

Everybody will go,^^ she said to herself, and 
what everybody does — cannot be wrong.^^ 

Margery found it easier to use negatives than 
affirmatives just there. It seemed a little difficult 
to say, What everybody does — must be right.^^ 
And she gladly hurried on to her next conclusion, 
and, any way, it will be for only this once.^’ 
And, dismissing all thought of the serious in- 
terests that might be involved in this once,^' 
Margery consented,, and was soon as interested as 


56 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


any of the girls in preparing her dress and making 
arrangements for the party. 

Thus the next four days went by. Margery 
was very busy, and, perhaps, if she had been 
questioned, would have said she was very happy. 
But all the while there was a secret unrest and 
discontent in her heart that made her afraid to 
scrutinize her conduct too closely. 

She was living in a constant whirl of excite- 
ment. She could not seem to find time for the 
Bible-reading and prayer that only a little while 
ago she had begun to think so precious ; and if, 
occasionally, she had the time, she did not feel 
in the mood, and gladly availed herself of any 
excuse for avoiding what appealed to her now 
only as a disagreeable, irksome duty. 

Some way there seemed to be a discord and 
strange want of sympathy between her Bible, with 
its tender but firm command, ^^And whatsoever 
ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the 
Lord Jesus, and the gay occasion for which she 
was preparing. She could not reconcile the two; 
she could not successfully obey Christ and at the 
same time please the world. 

The world, however, was visible and powerful ; 
she must please it, or bear its scorn. And so, like 
many another, Margery chose what seemed the 
smoothest way, and once again Satan triumphed, 
while the Spirit was grieved. 


OUT OF THE WAY, 


57 


Bright with the matchless splendor of the full 
August moon, fragrant with the perfume of 
flowers, and gay with the sound of brilliant music 
and dancing feet, the Saturday night so ardently 
anticipated came at last. 

It was with secret pleasure that Margery turned 
to her glass that evening for a last look before 
joining her young friends in the parlor. Her 
quaint, old-fashioned costume suited her well. To 
her eyes, the face and figure she saw reflected in 
that glass were very pleasant to behold, and she 
could not help feeling that other eyes would like- 
wise find them pleasant. And then, as she sur- 
veyed herself, there crept into her heart the vain 
and selfish desire, she had neither the will nor the 
wish to expel, that she might be thought pleasanter 
to look at than the other girls, and be, in fact, pre- 
ferred before them all. 

Vanity, self-love and pride, they were crushing 
down all Margery’s purer and lovelier qualities, 
as wild animals ruthlessly trample the delicate 
wood violets beneath their feet, and she, in her 
blindness, did not know it. Well satisfied with 
her self-inspection, she turned at last from her 
glass, and just then some watching, pitying angel 
soflly reminded her of a little thought she had 
somewhere read. 

^^Let the Christian remember that the only 
places that are beautiful and safe for him are the 


58 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


places to which he can invite his Master to accom- 
pany him, and in which he can gladly look to 
him for sympathy and approval/^ 

Margery stopped aghast. Could she do that ? 
Could she kneel down — all flushed with vanity 
and the desire to surpass others, as she w^as — and 
ask her Saviour to go with her to that ball-room ? 
Could she — dare she — ask him to smile upon all 
she might say and do that evening? No, she was 
forced to confess, she could not, and dare not, and 
for a single miserable minute she faltered. 

“ I wish it was over,^^ she sighed ; I wish I need 
not go.^^ But the next instant she heard Laura^s 
voice in the hall ; and dismissing her scruples, she 
hastened to join her. 

Merrily the next two or three hours went by. 
It w^as just after a dance, and a little tired and 
heated, Margery was resting for a few moments 
when a servant came to her with a card. 

Wonderingly, she took it and read : 

And penciled underneath the name, the few 
words, friend of Professor Carter, with a 

message for Miss Hamilton.^^ 

Oh dear, dear,^^ Margery thought, as she held 
the innocent card in her hand and looked at it 
with troubled eyes, ^Svhat shall I do?^^ 


OUT OF THE WAY. 


59 


She could not refuse to see Professor Carter’s 
friend. She really did not want to do that; 
yet to go to him from that scene, and see him in 
that dress! 

If he only wasn’t a minister, ” she whispered, 
despairingly, to herself, it would not seem quite 
so bad. Oh dear, I don’t see why ministers must 
always appear just when they are not wanted.” 

There was no escape for her ; wanted or not, Mr. 
MacMillan had certainly appeared and was wait- 
ing for her and she must go to him. And with a 
clouded face, very unlike the gentle one with 
which she had last looked at Professor Carter, 
Margery threaded her way through the crowded 
halls to the little reception-room that was not that 
evening thrown open to the dancers. 

A gentleman standing by the centre-table turned 
as he heard her light step, and Margery caught 
the quick look of surprise and regret that crossed 
his face as he first saw her. It was only a passing 
expression and quickly vanished, but Margery 
saw it. She could not have told, from that first 
glance at him, whether the stranger was young or 
old, handsome or the reverse ; but she understood 
at once that he did not admire or approve of her, 
and that one look effectually counteracted all the 
foolish flattery to which she had just been, with 
so much pleasure and complacency, listening. 

Miss Hamilton, I presume,” the gentleman 


60 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


said, courteously. I beg your pardon for calling 
at this late hour, but I arrived in Quantuck this 
evening, and am to leave early Monday morning. 
And this little book — which Professor Carter par- 
ticularly requested me to hand to you — will, I 
trust, fully atone for my intrnsion.^^ And he 
offered Margery, as he spoke, a plain, yet richly 
bound book. 

Mechanically, Margery took it and glanced at 
the title. It was a copy of an English edition of 
the Pilgrim^s Progress,^^ containing very full 
notes and explanations. 

The color rushed to Margery’s face. She felt 
bitterly ashamed and humiliated, but she made a 
great effort to appear unconcerned, and without 
lifting her eyes, she said, — 

Professor Carter is very kind. I hope he is 
well.” 

Very well. He bade me give you his kindest 
regards, and say ” and Mr. MacMillan hesi- 

tated a little, as if uncertain ’whether to deliver the 
message or retain it — ^^that he hoped his little 
pilgrim was going safely and surely on her course 
along the King’s highway.” 

The gentle words, recalling, as they did, her 
precious talks with Professor Carter, completely 
broke dowm Margery’s pride and reserve. 

I — I — don’t look much like it,” she faltered. 

There was a moment’s silence, but then, in a 


OUT OF THE WAY, 


61 


grave, but gentle voice, Mr. MacMillan an- 
swered, — 

Our looks are not always truthful. May I 
ask — do you feel like it 

The question probed deeply, and in the pain it 
caused her, Margery forgot that she was speaking 
to a stranger, and turned to him with an eager 
longing for help and relief. 

I — I thought I did once,^^ she answered, with 
humble sincerity. I meant to keep my promise 
to Profeasor Carter. But — ^but — it is so hard. It 
seems as if many pleasant things must be re- 
nounced.^^ 

Again Mr. MacMillan hesitated an instant. 
Then he said, as his eyes just glanced at Margery^s 
quaint dress, To Priscilla, the Puritan maiden, 
renunciation only meant giving up everything to 
Christ, and finding all things in him.’’ 

Margery winced a little. I am not like 
Priscilla,” she said, humbly. But,” she added, 
with a strong desire to excuse herself, I did not 
mean to do anything very wrong. Everybody 
was going to this party ; they did not think it 
wrong for them ; then why should it be wrong for 
me ?” 

The little room was very quiet for a few 
moments. 

Mr. MacMillan seemed unwilling to speak ; but 
Margery panted for an answer to her question, and 
6 


62 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


almost desperately she repeated it^ though a little 
changed in its form. 

Do you think/^ she asked, in a low, anxious 
voice, do you think it is wrong to go to such 
parties ? Are all the people in those rooms — 
and she pointed in the direction from which the 
music they could distinctly hear, seemed to come — 
doing wrong ? 

Nay,’^ was the quiet answer. I must not 
presume to answer that question. Miss Hamilton. 
I am not called upon to-night to sit on the judg- 
ment seat and condemn my brother. It is charity, 
not judgment, the Christian is required to exercise. 
And we must never forget, that as different sub- 
stances reflect different colors, that yet all blend 
together in the pure, white light of the sun, so 
different minds take different views of the same 
subject ; and some day, perhaps, we shall find that 
in the perfect truth there was room for all the 
views. Only,^^ and the quiet voice grew very 
sweet in its earnestness, this I must say : 
hearts that love the Master, and that are conse- 
crated to him, can never wish to go where they 
Avould not dare to ask him to go with them, or to 
bless them in going, or where they know that his 
presence would be unwelcome, or where a word 
from him, or to him, would seem out of place.^^ 
Margery’s question — for her — was answered for- 
ever. 


OUT OF THE WAY. 


63 


I am very sorry/^ she murmured. I — I 

did mean to try always to do right.^^ 

^^And, may I ask, is there any reason why you 
should not still try?’^ was the gentle reply she 
received. 

Margery shook her head. No, perhaps not/^ 
she said, sadly; ^^but I don’t know. I seem to 
have got out of the way.” 

''Then,” Mr. MacMillan said, kindly, "may I 
remind you of what is the safest thing for us to do 
when we are conscious of having got out of the 
way? Is it not to retrace our steps and take no 
rest until we are in it again ? ” 

"But that is such a hard thing to do, some- 
times,” Margery said, hopelessly. 

"Do you think so?” and Mr. MacMillan’s 
smile was full of encouragement. " No, Miss 
Hamilton, you are wrong in that thought. The 
dear old pilgrim Professor Carter loves so well 
will show us the truth here. He found it hard, 
very hard, to journey when, in obedience to Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman, he went out of his way. But 
once again safe within the way, 'he went on with 
haste;’ anxious, it is true, but unhindered until, 
'in process of time, he got up to the gate.’ We 
all wander and make mistakes. Miss Hamilton, 
but our Father’s heart never grows weary of for- 
giving, and his hand is always stretched out to 
welcome us when we turn back to him.” 


64 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Margery could not speak, but more than one 
tear dropped silently on the little book she was 
still holding. 

must not detain you longer/^ Mr. MacMil- 
lan said soon. Miss Hamilton, may I take back 
to Professor Carter the gratifying assurance that 
his little pilgrim still means to do and be all that 
he wishes 

For the first time during his call Margery’s 
soft eyes were raised frankly, though very humbly, 
to Mr. MacMillan’s. 

Yes, if you think I will not disappoint him,” 
she said, in a low voice. 

I feel very sure you will not be suffered to 
disappoint him,” Mr. MacMillan gently answered. 

The lamb that is apt to stray is the very one the 
shepherd most closely watches.” 

Thank you,” Margery said, gratefully. And 
then, as he extended his hand in farewell, she re- 
peated, Thank you for calling, Mr. MacMillan.” 

I am thankful I was commissioned to do so,” 
Mr. MacMillan pleasantly answered. Good- 
by, Miss Hamilton. Professor Carter cannot 
wish more truly than I do that you may approve 
things that are excellent and hold fast that which 
is good.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


FENCED IN. 


“ Now I saw in my dream that the highway, up which 
Christian was to go, was fenced on either side with a wall. 
Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run, but not 
without great difficulty, because of the load on his back.’’ — Pil- 
grim's Progress. 


ARGERY felt no fnclination after Mr. Mac- 



Millan’s departure to return to the ball-room. 
She hastened to her own room, and no entreaties 
from Laura, who soon came to look for her, could 
induce her to leave it again that night. 

have learned my lesson,*’ she humbly con- 
fessed to herself. Reaching one hand up to 
heaven, while with the other I cling with all my 
strength to the world, can never make me happy. 
I believe there is but one way for a Christian to 
live, and that is, like King David, with ^ a whole 
heart ’ to choose ^ the way of truth.’ 

And during the few remaining days of her stay 
in Quantuck, Margery’s life bore witness to the 
fact that she had chosen that way. The last days 
of the beautiful summer soon passed, and the 

65 6 * E 


66 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


morning for her departure arrived. It was a Sep- 
tember morning, full of the cool, indescribable 
brightness of the early autumn, and as the old 
stage that was to take them to the station rumbled 
away from the hotel, and they lost sight of the 
smiling faces that were watching them from the 
piazza, Margery and Laura sat back in their seats, 
half-sorry that their vacation was over and well 
aware that it did not leave them as it found them, 
but that in many respects they were changed to 
each other, and changed in the hopes and purposes 
of their lives. To each of those young girls, dur- 
ing that glad summer, thg tender call had come, — 

My child, give me thine heart.^’ 

And one had heeded and hastened to obey, but 
the other, like Banyan’s Mrs. Light-mind, had 
only said, — 

Come, put this kind of talk away.” 

And through all the long, eventful years of their 
as yet unknown future, the influence of those 
solemn decisions would be silently, surely felt. 

As the old stage disappeared around the corner, 
and the group on the piazza broke up, a lady who 
had only arrived in Quantuck the night before 
turned to a young girl near her. 

Who is that Margery Hamilton, Effie?^^ she 
asked. Does she live in Mrs. Stanton’s 
family ? 

Why no. Aunt Alice ; how strange that you 


FENCED IN 


67 


should think so ! She has spent the summer here 
with Laura because they are great friends and go 
to the same school ; but she has a beautiful home 
on the Hudson, and her father is a very rich 
manufacturer ; David Hamilton, haven’t you heard 
of him ? 

Is he her father ? Yes, I know him, and 
Mrs. Hamilton, too. And so Margery is their 
daughter. Well, she is hardly what I should ex- 
pect their daughter to be.^^ 

Why, what would you expect her to be. Aunt 
Alice ? I don^t know how she could be lovelier 
than she is, only she has taken some strict notions 
about being a Christian into her head lately, and 
I wish she would get over them ; they really 
make me uncomfortable sometimes, when T am 
with her.’’ 

Strict notions has she ? That explains what I 
meant, Effie. She impressed me as thinking of 
something beside the dress and pleasure in which 
most of you young girls seem absorbed.” 

^^Well, I hope Margery will have firmness 
enough to adhere to her ^ strict notions,’ but I fear 
the home to which she is going will have little 
tolerance for them.” 

What kind of a home is it. Aunt Alice ? ” 

A very beautiful one, Effie, and also a very 
worldly one. Her mother is a proud, fashionable 
woman, who lives for society ; her father is a de- 


68 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


voted business man, who lives to accumulate 
money ; and her brother is a gay, young fop, who 
would almost as soon commit a crime as stand 
manfully up and say no, where fashionable society 
has once said yes. He lives to spend his father’s 
wealth, and labors under the pitiful delusion that 
^the grand old name gentleman’ msans a man 
who Avas never suspected of working or doing any- 
thing really useful. In such a home what do you 
think your friend Avill do with her ^ strict notions ? ’ ” 

I don’t know. Aunt Alice, but I think that, 
like my great-grandmother’s dresses, I should lay 
them aside until the world was more ready to ap- 
prove of them.” 

Oh, Effie, Effie ! ” the older lady said, reprov- 
ingly, I hope Margery’s convictions of right are 
deeper than yours.” And with these words Mar- 
gery dropped out of the conversation, and almost 
out of the memories of her summer acquaintances. 

At sunset of that same day a carriage stopped 
before a beautiful house on the banks of the Hud- 
son, and Margery sprang out and ran quickly up 
the steps and into the arms of a lady who was 
Availing for her on the piazza. 

Mother, dear mother, you don’t know how 
glad I am to see you again,” the young girl said, 
joyfully. I Avas glad to go away, but I am 
gladder still to come back.” 

It is worth Avhile to let young birds try their 


FENCED IN 


69 


wings occasionally/^ said a fine-looking, middle- 
aged man, who just then came up to Margery and 
kissed her affectionately ; they know better how 
to prize the old nest when they come back to itJ’ 

I know I prize this nest,^^ Margery said, while 
her eyes roamed with great delight over the ex- 
quisitely-kept lawn, and then far off across the 
noble river rolling before them. Father, how 
lovely it is here! I never knew before how 
beautiful the Hudson was.^^ 

And I never knew before,^^ said a gay voice 
behind her, what a ^ nut-brown maide ^ my little 
sister was. Why, Margery, if color is any in- 
dication of health, you must be marvelously 
healthy.’^ 

So I am,^^ Margery declared, as she sprang to 
greet her brother. I am both healthy and 
happy, Clifford/^ and, with a glad laugh, the 
light-hearted girl followed her mother into the 
house, and danced away to her own beautiful 
room. 

Mother,^^ Margery said, a day or two after 
her return, as she sat alone with her mother, I 
wish I need not go to boarding-school this year. 
Can’t I stay home and have teachers come here ? ” 
Mrs. Hamilton smiled as if the request pleased 
her. Your father and I have already spoken of 
this/’ she said. We would like to have you 
with us this winter, and we will see what can be 


70 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


done about your lessons. I think it is certainly 
time you began to go a little into society.^^ 

There is one thing more I want to speak of, 
mother/^ Margery said, a little timidly, reminded 
by her mother’s last words that the time had come 
for her to acknowdedge the change that had come 
over her heart and life ; I hope I have become a 
Christian this summer, and so it seems to me I 
ought to join the church.” 

“ What !” Mrs. Hamilton said, more sharply 
than usual ; ‘‘ what did you say, Margery ? ” 
^^Only this, mother, that I hope I am a 
Christian, and think I ought to confess it before 
the world.” 

You better prove that you really are one, 
first,” Mrs. Hamilton coldly answered. 

But it seems to me, mother,” Margery ven- 
tured to urge, that to come out in that w^ay is 
one of the best proofs I can give of my sincerity.” 

I do not approve of young persons making 
professions whose importance they do not half 
comprehend,” Mrs. Hamilton said, with emphasis. 

There will be time enough, years from now, for 
you to join the church. At present you are too 
young to think of such a thing.” 

I do not suppose I am too young to die,’' 
Margery said, softly. 

What do you mean ? ” 

This, mother : I am not too young to die. 


FENCED IN 


71 


and so I ought not to be too young to prepare 
for death ; and if I am old enough for that, 
why am I not old enough to acknowledge before 
the world that I believe in Christ and want to 
learn of him, and become like him V’ 

Mrs. Hamilton looked sharply at her young 
daughter for a minute, and then turned from 
her, and for a little while appeared to be 
very busy in sorting her embroidery silks. 

May I do it, mother Margery asked soon. 

Mrs. Hamilton looked up impatiently. ^^Are 
you still harping on that subject, Margery she 
said. thought I had answered you.^’ 

I did not understand that you gave me a de- 
cided answer, mother.^^ 

Then try to be intelligent enough to under- 
stand that I give you one now. I shall not con- 
sent to your joining the church. I have other 
plans for you.’’ 

^^Will you tell them to me, mother? I do 
not know what they are.” 

^^Thatisofno consequence. You will know 
them when I am ready to reveal them, ” was the 
haughty answer. At present it is enough to say 
that I do not mean to allow you to do anything 
that will interfere with them.” 

Margery made no reply. To prolong the con- 
versation would only serve to strengthen her 
mother in her decision; and with a deepening 


72 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


conviction that for her there would be no gaining 
of the Christian’s crown without the bearing of the 
Christian’s cross^ she went to her room to seek 
help from her Bible and from prayer. 

The next day was the Sabbath. It was the 
custom in Mr. Hamilton’s family for some of its 
members to attend church Sabbath mornings — as 
church-going Mr. Hamilton considered a very 
proper act — and then, after church, devote the 
remainder of the day to driving, calling, novel- 
reading and entertaining intimate friends. 

Except that some of them went to church, and 
the fact that Mr. Hamilton did not attend to bus- 
iness, nor Mrs. Hamilton go shopping or add 
another bud or leaf to the piece of embroidery she 
always had on hand, there was nothing to indicate 
that the Sabbath was in any respect different from 
the other six days of the week. 

Margery thought of this, that morning while 
dressing for church, and sorrowfully wished that 
life in her luxurious home was governed more by 
the precepts of the Bible and less by the mandates 
of the world. And as she knelt in prayer, she 
earnestly asked that she might have strength ^^to 
call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord.” 

It was not until after church that she knew 
how much strength she would need really to call 
and keep it so. 

By the way,” Mrs. Hamilton said, as she leis- 


FENCED IN. 


73 


urely sugared and sipped her coffee at lunch, by 
the way, Margery, I forgot to tell you before, but 
Mrs. Stanton called yesterday and invited us to 
dine with her to-night — quite informally, of course 
— just ourselves and her nephew, Mr. Stevenson, 
and her own family I believe. And in the even- 
ing she said we would have a little music. Mr. 
Stevenson is very fond of music and Laura has 
given him a very flattering account of your sing- 
ing and playing, and he is very anxious to hear 
you. And I hope,’^ Mrs. Hamilton added with 
much emphasis, ^Hhat you will endeavor to do 
your best and not disappoint his expectations.^^ 

“ But, mother,’^ Margery said, desperately, but, 
mother, this is Sunday 

V ery true. I am happy to say I do not re- 
quire that information. I believe I am still cap- 
able of keeping the run of the days of the week. 
Pray, tell me what difference this being Sunday 
can make in this matter 

Margery hesitated. I would rather not spend 
it in just pleasing myself,^^ she said timidly, in a 
moment. , 

Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton exchanged glances. 
The conversation of the day before had been faith- 
fully reported by Mrs. Hamilton to her husband ; 
and now, as he heard Margery^s timid words, Mr. 
Hamilton turned quickly to her. ^^Then you 
may spend it in pleasing me,^^ he said in a stern, 
7 


74 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


resolute voice. It makes no difference by what 
name you call this day, Margery, I am going to 
Mrs. Stanton^s and I command you to go with 
me.^^ 

It was useless to plead with her father when he 
spoke in that tone. Margery knew that well; and 
even if words would have been of any avail, they 
were out of her power. She could only wait in 
silence and keep back her tears until lunch was over 
and she was at liberty to go to her room. 

What shall I do? oh, what shall I do?^^ was 
the cry that went up from her troubled heart, as 
it has from myriads of troubled ones through all 
the ages of the past. How can I live as a Chris- 
tian ought, and yet have all my days alike, and 
spend them all in serving the world ? 

Poor Margery ! She could find no answer for 
that old, unanswerable question, and, throwing her- 
self on her bed, she sobbed with all the passionate 
abandon of a young heart struggling with its first 
trouble. 

And what’s the matter now, dearie ? ” said a 
kind voice presently, and Margery brushed away 
her tears, and looked up to see the compassionate 
face of the old housekeeper bending anxiously 
over her. 

O, Mrs. True,” the sad girl sobbed, I am in 
so much trouble ! ” 

Trouble,” repeated the kind woman, whose 


FENCED IN. 


75 


fifty years had given her a deeper insight into 
the meaning of that word than the girl before 
her had even dreamed of. It is very little your 
young heart can know about trouble, dearie.’' 

It is trouble to me,’’ Margery sighed, despair- 
ingly. 

^^So it is,” responded the kind voice. ^^I de- 
clare I ’d almost forgotten that even the youngest 
heart must know its own bitterness. What is it. 
Miss Margery, dear; can an old woman help 
you ? ” 

Margery shook her head. No,” she sobbed ; I 
don’t think any one can help me. Oh, Mrs. True, I 
am trying to be a Christian, and it is very 
hard.” 

Quietly the old housekeeper sat down on the 
bed, took the young girl in her arms, and stroked 
back her soft, damp hair. 

^^What makes it so hard?” she asked, tenderly. 

I do not know how I am to live in this world 
and yet do right,” Margery answered in a sobbing 
voice. 

^^We will go by the King’s highway, we will 
not turn to the right hand nor to the left,” quoted 
Mrs. True, reverently, from the Bible, that for 
years had been truly a light unto her path. It 
is a straight road you are called to walk in, dear 
child,” she continued; can’t you keep in it?” 

It is very hard,” Margery sadly insisted. How 


76 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


can I always tell what 1 ought to do, or where I 
ought to go ? 

The commaudments make a wall all along the 
way,” Mrs. True thoughtfully answered; ^^and 
you will find — if you look for them — a ^ shall ’ or 
a ^ shall not ^ to answer every question.” 

But there is more than one commandment,” 
Margery urged. We are told to keep the Sab- 
bath-day holy, and we are also told to obey our 
parents. Now, suppose you have to choose be- 
tween those two commandments, and whichever 
one you keep, must break the other, what then?” 
and the troubled girl looked tearfully at Mrs. 
True. 

Nay, nay,” was the prompt, cheerful answer. 

You are in a fog of your own making now, my 
dear. The keeping of one of God’s command- 
ments never has required, and never will require, 
the breaking of another. If it seems so to you 
now, it is because you do not see what is really 
right and really wrong as clearly as you might, if 
you looked only through the sunshine of your 
Bible.” 

But how am I to get out of the fog ? ” Mar- 
gery asked ; how am I to decide what I ought 
to do, when, whichever way I turn, I feel afraid 
of doing wrong 

^^Foiget those troublesome questions for a mo- 
ment, and ask only how you can best honor God,^^ 


FENCED IN. 


77 


Mrs. True gently advised. There are many 
troubles and tangles in all our lives, Miss Mar- 
gery, that would soon be smoothed and straight- 
ened if, with humble, loving hearts, our first wish 
was always to honor our Father in heaven.’^ 

But it will not be honoring him for me to 
break either commandment,^’ Margery said, 
mournfully. • 

Then ask him to show you a way to keep both. 
Miss Margery, never, until we have tested God’s 
power to help us to the utmost — and who has 
ever done that? — have we any right to complain 
of our inability to do what he commands.” 

Margery ! ” called her father, just then, outside 
her door, be ready to go to Mrs. Stanton’s in 
half an hour.” 

Margery started up and went to the door, but 
her father was already descending the stairs, and 
in a moment she heard him enter the library. 
There was no longer time for tears or complaints, 
and slowly, with a beating heart, she followed her 
father down the stairs. With her hand on the 
door-knob she paused a second, while her silent 
prayer went up, — Dear Lord, help me to honor 
thee, and sho w me how to keep thy commandments.” 
And then she opened the door and walked with 
soft, swift steps to her father’s side. 

Father,” she began, may I speak to you a 
minute ?”. 


7 * 


78 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


It must be for just a minute, then, Margery,” 
Mr. Hamilton answered ; for the carriage will 
be here soon, and I see you are not yet ready.” 

Must I get ready, father ?” Margery asked, 
pleadingly, when I would so much rather stay 
at home? ” 

Why? ” 

The short question was sternly asked, and Mar- 
gery^s courage almost failed her as she answered, — 

Because, father — because — I am trying to be 
a Christian.” 

What has that to do with your going to Mrs. 
Stanton^s ?” 

Margery trembled, but she answered, brokenly, — 

I want — to keep — the Sabbath-day — holy.” 

You seem to have forgotten that there is a 
fifth commandment as well as a fourth,” Mr. 
Hamilton said, angrily. 

No, oh no, father, I have not forgotten it,” 
Margery said, with great earnestness; ^^and I 
want — indeed, I do want — to do what you wish, 
always, in all things.” 

Very well ; I shall be satisfied if you do as I 
wish in this one thing, to-day. Go now, and get 
ready !” 

For one moment Margery stood irresolute, and 
with contracted brow Mr. Hamilton watched her. 

Are you going to obey me, Margery ?” he 
asked soon. 


FENCED IN. 


79 


How was Margery to answer that question? 
Whether she said yes or no, it' seemed to her sen- 
sitive conscience that she would still be doing 
wrong. 

Dear Jesus, help me! she silently prayed ; 
and even as the prayer went up, the power to 
speak the gentle words, that were more potent than 
swords, came down. 

^^Father,^^ she said, in a sweet, tremulous voice ; 
won^t you please let me stay home to-night ? It 
will make me very unhappy to go, and — father — 
you have never made me unhappy — ^yet.^^ 

They were simple, innocent words, unprompted 
by art or cunning ; but, irritated and angry though 
he was, Mr. Hamilton found it hard to resist 
their gentle appeal. It was very true that he had 
never yet, willingly, caused his child a moments 
unhappiness ; and it seemed to him now well-nigh 
impossible to utter the word that would cause her, 
instead of that gentle yet,^^ to say until to- 
day.^^ 

Conscious that he was conquered, and yet still 
vexed, he looked at Margery for a moment and 
then said, severely, — 

If I never have made you unhappy, it by no 
means follows that I never shall, if you persist in 
this ridiculous way of thinking and acting. But 

for to-night He paused a minute, and 

then, having thought of a way by which he could 


80 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


maintain his dignity, he added, — As I think too 
highly of Mrs. Stanton’s hospitality to wrong it 
by claiming it for an unwilling guest, you can re- 
main at home.” 

Thank you,” Margery said, gratefully. But . 
then, as she saw the frown deepening oh his face, 
she asked, timidly, You are not displeased with 
me now ; are you, father ?” 

Mr. Hamilton looked at her with dissatisfied 
eyes. Already he regretted yielding, and in no 
mood to be conciliated, he answered, sternly, — 

Yes ; I am both displeased with you and dis- 
appointed in you. But go now ; since solitude 
has such charms for you that you prefer it to the 
society of your best friends, go to your room and 
enjoy it.” 

And, not daring to speak, Margery silently 
obeyed him. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE BUKDEN DKOPPED. 


He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending; 
and upon that place stood a cross ... So I saw in my dream, 
that just as Christian came up with the cross, his burden loosed 
from off his shoulders .^^ — PUgrMs Progress. 


now what shall we do with her?^^ Mrs. 



Hamilton asked, anxiously, as, alone with 
her husband that night, they discussed Margery^s 
peculiar conduct. 

“ Send her back to school at once,^^ Mr. Hamil- 
ton answered. the influence of forty or fifty 

gay girls does not prove strong enough to over- 
come her solemn fancies, I shall be sadly disap- 
pointed.^^ And in consequence of this decision, 
the next week found Margery once more an in- 
mate of Madame Girard’s school. 

She was almost glad to be there, and away from 
the chilling atmosphere that had surrounded her 
lately in her own home; but the young girl’s 
heart was very heavy, and not even the lively 
greetings of her schoolmates could charm her out 


( 81 ) 


82 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


of her sadness. Her father had parted from her 
with a few cold words that made her keenly con- 
scious of the depth of his displeasure. Her 
mother had reproached her severely for what she 
was pleased to call her ridiculous nonsense.^^ 
Even her brother had contributed towards making 
her unhappy. 

Good-by, Margery/^ he said, carelessly. I 
hope you will get these old-fashioned, puritanical 
notions out of your head soon. If you don^t, I 
think when you come home again 1^11 go off — 
somewhere where I can have peace and happiness. 
You have managed pretty effectually to banish 
those two blessings from this house lately.^^ 

Margery’s heart ached as she recalled those 
stinging words, and it ached still more when that 
first trying day at sclmol was over and the hour 
came for retiring. 

How she longed for the privacy of her own 
beautiful room at home ! Here, in this crowded 
school, she was placed in a large chamber with 
Laura and two other girls. She could never hope 
to be alone now. Whatever she did, must be done 
with the consciousness that three pairs of bright, 
curious eyes were watching her, and that every 
departure from her usual course would surely be 
noticed and criticised. 

She felt this deeply that night. It had been 
her custom of late to read a short passage in her 


THE BURDEN DROPPED, 


83 


Bible before retiring ; but should she— could she 
do so now? She asked herself that question 
even while she was looking in her trunk for her 
Bible. When the book was found she still hesi- 
tated. 

She had shared that room with those same girls 
for three years.r In all that time there had never 
been a prayer offered in it, nor a chapter in the 
Bible read, save when their school duties impera- 
tively demanded it — a sad, strange fact, perhaps, 
but still a fact. And now, after all she had en- 
dured at home, was it still her duty to do what 
would, without doubt, provoke comment and prob- 
ably ridicule here? Couldfft she just repeat men- 
tally some Bible verses that she could remember, 
and then say her prayers silently after she was 
snuggled away in bed ? 

She was sorely tempted to do so, and for a mo- 
ment she faltered and her Bible dropped from her 
hand. Then came the solemn warning, — Who- 
soever shall be ashamed of me and of my words,^^ 
— and grasping her Bible again, this time with both 
hands, as if she feared it might suddenly be 
snatched from her, Margery crossed the room and 
took a seat near the gas-light. 

Oh, Margery,^^ exclaimed one of the girls, as 
she stopped in the very act of unbraiding her 
hair to look at her, have you a new book there ? 
Won’t you lend it to me? what is it?” 


84 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


My Bible/^ Margery said, in a low voice, in 
answer to that last question. 

If she had said the lost sibylline leaves they 
had read of in their Roman histories the girls 
could hardly have been more surprised. Their 
surprise was, however, a great help to Margery, for 
it produced the desirable effect of keeping them 
quiet. They were not inclined to ask any more 
questions just then, and when her short reading 
was ended, Margery went softly to her bed and 
knelt down beside it. 

It was a trial to do so, and it seemed impossible 
to pray and forget the six wondering eyes that were 
watching her; but from the depths of the girl’s 
sad heart the humble prayer went up : Lord, 
help me, and teach me to live as a Christian ought.” 

And then, strengthened by her very struggles, 
Margery dropped her tired head on her pillow, 
and forgot — for a little while — her troubles. 

But that sweet forgetfulness only lasted a few 
hours, and with the dawn of the next day Mar- 
gery opened her eyes and came back to real life, 
with all its needs, and trials, and temptations. 

Her room-mates were still asleep, and after con- 
sidering the matter a few minutes, Margery de- 
cided that it might be possible for her, by rising 
very early every morning, to obtain a little quiet 
time for her reading and prayer before the girls 
would be awake and conscious of her actions. 


THE BURDEN DROPPED. 


85 


Cheered by that hope, she arose, and after dress- 
ing with the utmost caution, for fear of disturbing 
the sleepers, she found her Bible, and took her 
seat in a corner of the room where she fancied she 
would be somewhat shielded from observation. 

She had a few sweet moments of undisturbed 
quiet, enough for. her to find and rest her trou- 
bled heart upon the tender, unalterable promise of 
her heavenly Father : Behold, I send an angel 

before thee, to keep thee in the way, and to 
bring thee unto the place which I have pre- 
pared.” 

An angel to keep her in the way ! 

^^Oh,” the poor child thought, if Icould only see 
him, how much easier it would be to trust and fol- 
low.” Still, though sight might fail her, faith 
could rest upon that promise, and feel that it was 
sweet. And, with intense longing, Margery clung 
to it that morning. 

She was in the way, and she meant, with all 
the will that she possessed, to stay in it. Yet it 
seemed to her a hard way, and she felt that a 
power, apart from, and stronger than herself, was 
needed to keep her in it. 

If she could only see that angel and know that 
he was leading, how much easier it would be ! she 
sadly thought. 

She was still musing over that wonderful prom- 
ise, when the sudden restlessness and stir of the 
8 




86 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


girls warned her that her quiet hour, for that day, 
was over. 

What ! Margery, are you up so early ? Laura 
exclaimed, as she sat up in her bed and looked at 
her. And reading, too, I declare. Tell me, is 
that the same book you were so much interested 
in last night ? 

Yes,’^ Margery reluctantly answered. 

Well, you do mean to set us a good example 
this term, if you never did before, don^t you ? 

Margery made no reply ; she only bent lower 
over her book, and tried to forget the scornful 
eyes that were watching her, and for a moment or 
two Laura was silent ; but soon she called, — 

Girls, come, too much reading isn^t good for 
any one. Let’s get up and put a stop to Mar- 
gery’s.” 

The girls were all wide awake immediately, 
and ready for any mischief. They were not 
usually unkind, and they probably could not have 
told what motives influenced their conduct that 
morning ; but they were thoughtless and careless ; 
they did not want, as Laura sarcastically said, 
a saint in their room.” Then Laura was always 
their acknowledged leader. So when she called 
them now they were ready to obey her. 

They danced around Margery as they dressed, 
and teased her with foolish remarks, and annoyed 
her with ridiculous questions, until, finding it im- 


THE BURDEN DROPPED, 


87 


possible to read, with a weary sigh she closed her 
book. 

‘^Please do not talk to me now,’^ she pleaded, 

I want to be quiet a little while. 

^^Why do you want to be quiet It was 
Laura who spoke, and with an imploring face 
Margery turned to her. 

‘^You know why, Laura,^^ she said, gently. 
^^You have not forgotten last summer and Pro- 
fessor Carter, have you?’^ 

^^If I have not, I mean to,’^ Laura said, in a 
sharp voice, ^^and I mean that you shall, too. Mar- 
gery, you really are too nonsensical for people 
blessed with common sense to endure you. If 
you were sick — in a consumption, for instance — it 
might be worth while for you to act as you do. 
But as it is, it is simply absurd. And I will just 
tell you the truth ; I saw your mother and Clifford 
two days ago. They called here and told me 
about you and I promised — and I intend to keep 
my promise — to do all I could to get your dis- 
agreeable notions out of your head. We dofft 
believe much in fanatics in this nineteenth century, 
let me tell you.’’ 

You do believe in Christians, though, Laura, 
don’t you ?” Margery asked, sadly. 

‘‘Christians? I don’t know. It depends upon 
the kind of Christian you mean. I believe in the 
comfortable sort, who do as other people do, and 


88 


ALONG THE OLD EOAD, 


who are not all the time preaching sermons by 
their actions, if not by their words/^ 

I do not want to preach/^ Margery said, in a 
troubled voice, but I do want to do right/^ 

‘‘ Then the sooner you stop being so ridiculous, 
and consent to do as your parents and Clifford 
wish, the sooner your want will be satisfied. 
Come, Margery, I do not want to quarrel with 
you, but I give you fair warning ; if you do not 
throw your solemn fancies to the winds and act 
like a sensible girl, you will receive no sympathy 
from me.^^ 

Poor Margery! she felt just then as if, for her, 
there was no sympathy anywhere in the wide 
world. It appeared very strange to the discourag- 
ed girl, that just when she was trying hardest to 
do her duty, all things should seem to turn against 
her. She found no pity, she sadly thought, on 
earth, and no help seemed to come from heaven. 
And when she recalled her morning reading, she 
was tempted, in the bitterness of her undisciplined 
heart, to believe that the ^^angeP^ had forsaken 
her, and left her to tread her toilsome path alone. 

The day that followed that trying morning was 
full of trials, but it was over at last ; and in the 
early twilight Margery stood by the school-room 
window looking out on the crowded street with 
eyes that plainly saw little of what was passing 
before them. Her sad expression touched and in- 


THE BURDEN DROPPED, 


89 


terested one of the teachers who just then happen- 
ed to look towards her. 

^^What is the matter, Margery she asked, as 
she went to the windo>v, and laid her hand kindly 
on the young girPs hair. 

Margery turned and showed to the pleasant eyes 
that were watching her a very sober, unhappy face. 

don’t know. Miss Woodw|j;d,” she said, in a 
tired, indifferent voice, dor^lknow that it is 
anything new. I believe I am dull — that’s all.” 

^^Dull, and only eighteen,” Miss Woodward 
answered, with a smile. Things must truly be 
sadly amiss when a young girl like you complains 
of dullnesss. Were you ever in my room, Mar- 
gery? I am just going there. Suppose you 
come, too, and make me a little visit before study 
hour.” 

. Margery’s sober face brightened. Thank you. 
Miss Woodward,” she said, gratefully; ^^if you 
will take me, I would rather go with you than do 
anything else.” 

Come, then.” And without more words Miss 
Woodward led the way to her pleasant room. 

It was warm and still and cozy, and with a sigh 
of relief Margery dropped into the easy chair 
Miss Woodward offered her and looked around. 

‘^How pleasant this room is!” she said, ^^and 
you have it all to yourself. Miss Woodward, don’t 
you ? I wish it wasn’t wicked to be envious.” 

8 * 


90 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


^^Unfortunately it is/^ Miss Woodward said, 
cheerfully; ^^so, my dear, you must put that 
naughty feeling out of your heart at once. But 
tell me, Margery, aren^t ypu pleasantly situated 
here? I thought you were very fond of your 
room-mates, particularly of Laura Stanton.^^ 

I always have been,^^ Margery answered, in a 
slow, deliberate^»ice, as if she were considering 
and trying to how much she really did care 

for her room-mates, ^^and I think I am still. 
But — I do not feel about things just as I used. 
Miss Woodward.^^ « 

Miss Woodward did not reply to Margery^s bit 
of confidence at once. As if to take time for 
thought, she went to her window and lowered her 
shade; then turned up the gas and straightened 
the books on her table. And when all was done 
she came back to her seat and carefully studied 
Margery’s downcast face for a few moments with- 
out speaking. Presently she said : Things? 
what things do you mean, Margery ?” 

Margery turned at that question and looked at 
Miss Woodward more attentively than she ever 
had before. 

She saw a sweet, thoughtful face, bright with 
the sunshine of a soul that had passed through 
many trials, but that through them all had kept 
its faith in God’s promises un weakened, its hope 
in a glad hereafter undimmed. It was a face that 


THE BURDEN DROPPED. 


91 


seemed to promise help as well as sympathy, and 
Margery trusted it at once. 

Miss Woodward/’ she began, I do not want 
to be rude, but will you let me ask you a question ? 
I do long to know some good people — Are you a 
Christian ?” 

Yes, Margery.” 

How quiet and confident that a||pver was ! 

Margery almost wondered thatIRiss Woodward 
dared to be sure. hope so,” would have 

seemed much more humble, and yet how beautiful 
it was to be free from doubt! The girl’s eyes 
filled, and for a few moments there was a deep, 
but sweet silence in the little room. 

Is it my turn to catechise now?” Miss Wood- 
ward asked, gently, after waiting in vain for Mar- 
gery to speak again. Margery, dear, may I ask 
you that same questionJjjj^re you a Christian ?” 

Very humble and SlP^as Margery’s answer. 

don’t know. Miss Woodward, but — I — hope 

so.” 

Miss AiYoedward left her chair and going to 
Margery, stooped down and gave her one or two 
gentle kisses, — kisses so full of love and sympathy 
that Margery was cheered and comforted at once, 
and looked at her new friend with a brighter face 
than she had worn since her return to school. 

Where do you find that doubt, Margery?” 
Miss Woodward asked presently. 


92 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Doubt Margery echoed ; what doubt, Miss 
Woodward 

The doubt that makes you so uncertain. Why 
are you not sure that you are a Christian, Mar- 
gery? Don’t you know that this is the Chris- 
tian’s most precious privilege — to know and be- 
lieve the love that God hath toward him ?” 

It was hard for Margery to answer that ques- 
tion, but she stflhggled to do so. 

I do not feel good enough to be sure of that — 
yet,” she said, soberly. do so many wrong 
things that I know God cannot be pleased with 
me ; and I am afraid to depend too surely upon 
his love until I am really better and more deserv- 
ing than I am now.” 

Before replying to those sad words. Miss Wood- 
ward drew her chair closer to Margery and took 
the weeping girl in her^.ms. 

Oh, Margery, Margery,” she said, in a tone full 
of tender reproof, ^^you dear, blind child, are you, 
too, misled as so many others have been ? Are 
you, too, trying to win and deserve, as a re- 
ward of merit, what is offered to you as a free 
and priceless gift ? Afraid to feel sure of 
God’s love — Margery,” and Miss Wood^vard’s voice 
was broken with tears, ^^how can you do my 
Father and yours such cruel wrong, such bitter 
injustice ?” 

I am so far from being what I ought to be 


THE BURDEN DROPPED. 93 

that I feel unworthy and far away from — hwiy^ 
Margery whispered, humbly. 

Again there was a brief silence in that pleasant 
room, broken soon by Miss Woodward^s low, 
sweet voice, as, sentence by sentence, she repeated : 
^^But when he was yet a great way offy — are 
you farther away than that, Margery? — his 
father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and 
fell on his neck, and kissed him.^^ 

Margery,’^ Miss Woodward whispered, after 
waiting a little while for those wonderful words to 
do their work, Margery, you believe in Christ. 
You know he never said a word that was not 
true. Can you not, then, believe in this precious 
revelation — he himself gives us — of his Father^s 
love 

^^Yes, I do. I do believe in it,’^ Margery 
whispered back ; but. Miss W oodward, I must 
do something myself first, mustn’t I, before I can 
claim that love for my own ? ” 

I do not know of anything, dear, except to 
accept that love, and let it do its work in drawing 
from you an answering love,” Miss Woodward 
said, with sweet seriousness. 

Margery turned, and for a few moments care- 
fully watched Miss Woodward’s face. 

Why, Miss Woodward,” she insisted, there 
must be something more. You know I must not 
be now just what I always have been. And oh,” 


94 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


she added, with a mournful sigh, since I have 
tried to be a Christian, I have had so much trouble. 
I think — ^yes, I do truly think. Miss Woodward — 
that it is just the hardest work in the world to 
make and keep ourselves good.^^ 

I do not doubt it, Margery. Indeed, I believe 
I should even go farther than you, and say it is 
not only hard, but impossible.’^ 

What did Miss Woodward mean? Margery 
looked at her with curious, searching eyes, but 
smiles and tears were strangely mingled in the 
sweet face before her, and, with all her searching, 
Margery was no wiser. 

^^But you know. Miss Woodward, it is a work 
that we must do,” she said, in a solemn voice. 

^^No, Margery; I do not know any such 
thing.” 

Once more, with questioning eyes, Margery 
looked at her new friend, and then, with a sob, hid 
her face against the arm that was folded around 
her. 

do not know what you mean,” she confessed, 
but I feel as if you possessed some beautiful 
secret that would make me as happy as you are, 
if I only knew it. Won’t you tell it to me?” 

Miss W ood ward’s lips rested for a second on the 
young girl’s brow, and her arms drew her closer ; 
then she said, Margery, you make me think of 
Bunyan’s pilgrim, who ^ could not go as fast as he 


THE BURDEN DROPPED. 


95 


would by reason of the burden that was on his 
back/ Did you ever read of him, dear?^^ 

Not much ; only a little/^ 

^^Then, take my advice, and read a ^little' 
more. With the exception of your Bible, you will 
find few books that will help you more. But let 
me tell you about that burden, Margery. You 
know what it was, don’t you ? — the painful sense 
of sin ; the deep, humiliating consciousness of his 
own unworthiness. It troubled and hampered 
him, dear, and hindered him in his progress, and, 
with all his efforts,^he could not rid himself of it, 
until,” — and the speaker’s voice thrilled with a 
tender joy, — in the course of his pilgrimage, he 
came to a place where ^ stood a cross.’ And, Mar- 
geiy, as ^ he came up with that cross, his burden 
loosed from off his shoulders and fell from off his 
back,’ and he — ^saw it no more.’ ” 

^^Do you understand it, dear?” Miss Wood- 
ward asked, soon, for Margery had neither spoken 
nor stirred in several minutes. 

I think — I do.” 

Then tell me, Margery, let me know what it 
means to you.” 

Margery raised her head, and, perhaps, no one 
in all her young life had ever seen her face look 
as pure and beautiful as it did just then. 

It means this to me,” she said, with a grave, 
sweet simplicity. ^^I never understood it fully 


96 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


before. It seems to have come to me this eveniag, 
Miss Woodward, since you have been talking. 
It is God^s great love for us, and not what 
we do for him, that saves us. It is losing sight 
of ourselves, and seeing Christ, that gives us 
courage to believe that our sins are forgiven and 
covered. And^^ — she stopped a moment as if 
uncertain how to proceed. 

Go on, Margery, let me have the whole.’^ 
Margery’s smile in answer was a little tremu- 
lous ; but her voice was clear and firm as if the 
new faith and hope that had entered her soul were 
making her strong in every part. 

I don’t know that I can express it plainly,” 
she said, but it seems to me I can see this trutli 
written now all over my life. I cannot — with all 
my efforts — make myself good. I cannot — no 
matter how hard I try — make myself delight in 
self-denials or sacrifices. Nor can I — in my own 
strength — ever find it easy or pleasant to renounce 
the things of the world, that my Bible tells me 
Christ does not love, and to which I know I ought 
not to cling. By no struggles of my own can I ever 
do this. But when I once feel truly in my heart 
how much God loves me ; when I once, with 
the eye of faith, see Christ as he really is, then 
self-denials will change into pleasures. I will feel 
that sacrifices — for him. — are privileges, and the 
things Christ does not love will be easy for me 


THE BURDEN DROPPED. 97 

to renounce, for I will not love them either, and 
I will not want to go anywhere where I think he 
would not be willing to go with me. Am I right. 
Miss Woodward And with a gush of sweet 
tears, Margery hid her face once more. 

Yes, dear Margery,^^ was the the tender an- 
swer. I think — like Christian — you have — 
^ come up with the cross.’ ” 

9 


o 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 

“ I beheld, then, that they all went on till they came to the 
foot of the hill Difficulty, at the bottom of which was a spring. 
. . . Christian now went to the spring, and drank thereof 

to refresh himself.” — Pilgrim^s Progress, 

^ I ^HE joy and comfort that came to Margery 
from that talk with Miss Woodward sank deep 
into her heart, and became an abiding influence in 
her life. 

^^Now I can go on/’ she thought, and from 
that hour, though often she walked with faltering 
steps, her course was onward. No longer trying 
to make and keep herself good,” but dropping 
that hopeless task into his hands who was able 
to keep all she committed to him, Margery, like 
Christian, grew glad and lightsome,” and went 
on singing.” 

Not that the thorns were all removed from her 
path. In her heavenly Father’s wise and loving 
plan for her they were still left to prove her ; to 
keep her ever conscious of her own weakness and 
ever looking to him for strength. 

( 98 ) 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 99 


Her parents never failed, in their letters and 
visits, to reproach her for what they considered 
her obstinacy and disobedience. Her brother, 
whenever she saw him, was sure to pain her with 
his frivolity and undisguised contempt for all that 
she held most sacred, and Laura, who had always 
been her dearest friend and inseparable companion, 
seemed now like a stinging nettle in her path, los- 
ing no opportunity to irritate and wound her with 
cutting words and slighting actions. Life in that 
fashionable boarding-school was much like life 
in other places, commending conformity to the 
world as sensible and advisable, and pronouncing 
the following of Christ in literal, child-like obe- 
dience, an unwise, fanatical proceeding. 

Yes, there were many things in Margery’s daily 
life — as in all our lives — that, according as she 
used them, would be either helps or hindrances in 
her journey heavenward. Margery was learning 
— slowly, perhaps, but surely — to make them all 
helps. All Laura’s sarcastic speeches and her 
friends’ unjust reproaches only taught her more of 
the preciousness of prayer and of the- all-suf- 
fiency of Christ, and helped to educate her in the 
beautiful graces of patience, humility and meek- 
ness. 

In Miss Woodward she found a 'kind, true 
friend, who was always ready to aid her with 
sympathy, advice and helpful words ; and in her 


100 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


pleasant room Margery often found the quiet and 
repose she could not enjoy elsewhere. And so the 
days and weeks went by, until December came 
with its glad preparations for Christmas, and 
bright eyes grew brighter and young hearts gayer 
as they looked forward to the holiday vacation. 

Margery was to go home for the holidays ; and 
her mother had written that she would find the 
house full of company and must prepare for a 
very gay visit. Even while she longed to go, 
Margery shrank from the ordeal to which she 
feared her parents meant to subject her. But she 
could not help herself. She could only go humbly 
and prayerfully on her way, doing as well as she 
could the duty of to-day, and leaving the to-mor- 
row and its burdens with him, who when the 
burdens came, would give the strength to bear 
them. 

We can only propose, and after all our plan- 
ning, it is God who in the end directs our steps. 
Margery was to learn now that in her Christmas 
holidays, as in all the other days of her life, her 
heavenly Father was better to her than all her 
fears — better even than all her hopes. 

It was only tw^o days to Christmas, and Mar- 
gery was expecting to go home the next morning, 
when a telegram came from Mr. Hamilton. 

All their plans were changed. Clifford w^as 
sick with a contagious fever, and on no account 




THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 101 

would Mr. Hamilton allow Margery to come 
home. She must remain at the school. 

‘^Eemain here/^ Miss Woodward said when 
she heard Margery^s sad news. “ My dear, I can 
propose something better than that. Go home 
with me.^^ 

Margery smiled through her tears. Oh, if I 
only could/^ she said, wishfully. 

I do not believe there is any law of the Medes 
and Persians to forbid your going,^^ Miss Wood- 
ward answered. ^^And I will telegraph at once 
and ask your fathers permission.’^ 

Mr. Hamilton’s answer was soon received. Mar- 
gery might displease him, but she was none the 
less the darling of his heart ; and the thought of 
her lonely life at the great, empty school during 
the holidays had troubled him very much. He 
believed that all Madame Girard’s teachers were 
worthy of respect and confidence, and he was glad 
to avail himself of Miss Woodward’s invitation 
and to trust Margery to her care. 

‘^So the obstacles are all cleared out of our 
way,” Miss Woodward said, after reading the 
pleasant telegram. Now, Margery, if we have 
any last arrangements — such as packing our 
trunks and consulting with Santa Claus — ^to make, 
we must attend to them without delay, for we 
have a long journey before us, and must start 
early to-morrow morning if we mean to be at 
9 * 


102 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


home in time to hang up our stockings on Christ- 
mas eve/^ 

The next day was crisp and fair, and at an 
early hour — as Miss Woodward had said — they 
took their seats in the train bound for Bellefield — 
a beautiful town, peacefully nestled down among 
the old hills that surround it on every side and 
that — like the fairies around the cradle in the old 
story — seem to shut it in from all harm. 

The cars were full of travelers, all burdened 
wnth mysterious-looking packages and boxes. And 
the memory of Bethlehem^s Christmas song seemed 
to gladden their eyes and sweeten their smiles and 
soften all their thoughts and actions. 

Margery enjoyed every hour of her long 
journey, but the pleasantest part of the day came 
at its close, when, in the dusk of the early 
evening. Miss Woodward led her into the quiet 
home where her mother and sister were waiting to 
welcome them. The greetings she received were 
so warm and sincere that if Margery had felt any 
secret doubts of her welcome, they were at once 
dispelled and banished. 

I feel at home already. Miss Woodward/^ she 
said, brightly, as, up-stairs in Miss Woodward^s 
pleasant room, she was removing her wraps. 

Do you ? Miss Woodward kindly answered ; 
then prove it, my dear, by doing while here just 
as you like. That is what my mother always 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 103 


wants her girls to do^ so long as they only like 
to do right/^ 

It must be very easy to be good and do right 
here/^ Margery said, with a curiously mingled 
smile and sigh. 

I hope you will find it so/^ Miss Woodward 
said, kindly. ^^The ease with which we do right 
in this world depends, I think, Margery, not so 
much upon the place we are in, as upon the love 
that fills our hearts. There^s a wise little sermon 
for you for Christmas eve,^^ she added, laughingly, 
as she smoothed Margery^s soft hair; ^^and now, 
if you are ready, we will go down and see what 
our mother and sister are doing.’^ 

You have come just in time, Kathie,^^ said 
Mrs. Annie Woodward, when, a little later, they 
were all gathered around the cozy tea-table. 
^^Mrs. MacMillan gives a Christmas party to- 
morrow evening, and we are all invited.’^ 

I am very glad I am in time,” Miss Woodward 
answered. Margery, Mrs. MacMillan is one of my 
dearest friends. I want you to know her, and I 
shall be delighted to have an opportunity to intro- 
duce you to her to-morrow night.” 

But I am not invited,” Margery said, soberly.. 

^^No, but I am, fortunately ; and in Mrs. Mac- 
Millan’s creed, her friends’ friends are always her 
friends. You will find yourself warmly welcomed, 
my dear,, mid you must go if it is only to please me.” 


104 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


I would do something much harder than that 
to please you/^ Margery said^ gratefully. 

^^Good little girl/^ Miss Woodward answered. 
^‘Mother, you see I have at least one obedient 
pupil at Madame Girard^s. By the way, why are 
not Cuckoo, Bobolink and Eobin, and our good 
brother and sister here to-night? 

^^They will come over a little later/^ Mrs. 
Woodward replied. Their stockings are to be 
hung in our fire-place to-night, and they have 
already had a great many serious discussions as to 
whether our chimney is large enough for Santa 
Clause to come down comfortably.^^ 

/Mf he cannot come comfortably,^^ Miss Wood- 
ward said, laughingly, ^^he will have to endure a 
little crowding, and then his experience will only 
be a fair type of the inconvenience most of us 
have to submit to at this season. Mother, I think 
if there is ever a time in our lives when we feel, 
with Rosamond, that the ^ silver paper won’t cover 
the basket,’ it is at Christmas, when we want to 
buy and give so much. Yet, a little crowding 
here, and stretching there, sometimes helps won- 
derfully, and I have no doubt that Santa Claus 
knows that as well as we do.” 

■^Have you been growing philosophical, my 
dear Kathie ?” said a pleasant voice in the door- 
way, and with a glad cry Miss Woodward sprang 
up to greet the new-comer. 


THE SPRIHG AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 105 

Oh, Mark ^ she said, you don^t know how 
glad I am to see you/^ 

Perhaps I can guess,’^ was the laughing yet 
tender answer. A fellow feeling sometimes makes 
us wondrous wise, my dear Kathie.” 

Miss Woodward^s eyes were very bright, though 
they shone through an April mist of sunshiny tears. 

Margery,^^ she said, as she turned with thought- 
ful kindness to Margery, ‘^here is another new 
friend for you, dear : my brother, the Rev. Mark 
Woodward. And now,’^ she asked eagerly, as 
soon as her introduction was over, where are 
the birdlings 

Here, and here, and here,^^ cried three laugh- 
ing voices ; and from behind the open door rushed 
three bright-eyed, curly-headed little girls, who 
threw' themselves into Miss Woodward’s arms 
and almost devoured her with kisses. 

Oh, Aunt Kathie !” cried one of them, we 
thought you never would come. It has been the 
longest time to Christmas ! ” 

Yes, I dare say, my pet ; it takes our good 
times a long while to come to us sometimes, but 
they always come at last, don’t they?” And 
Kathie turned with a loving, questioning look to 
her brother, who was standing beside her with 
his hand resting on her shoulder. 

To those who wait patiently — yes,” he said, in 
a low voice meant for her alone. 


106 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


In the pretty, impulsive way, that seemed to 
belong to her in her own home. Miss Kathie bent 
and laid her cheek for a moment against his 
hand. ^^And now,^^ she said, as she sprang up, 
where is the mamma 

^^She^s home,^^ said the oldest girl very de- 
murely, though her eyes fairly danced with some 
pleasant secret she was trying to conceal. 

And why is that. Bobolink ? Why didn’t she 
come, too, when I want to see her so much?” 

Oh, Aunt Kathie !” cried Cuckoo, ^Hhat’s the 

very bestest part of it all, and ” 

Oh, Aunt Kathie, I can’t wait ; I must tell you ; 
we’ve got a s’prise for you at our house,” laughed 
Robin. 

Let’s all tell her together,” cried Bobolink. 
And then three pairs of little arms went round 
Miss Woodward’s neck, and three little rose-bud 
mouths struggled to reach her ear, and three glad, 
innocent child voices whispered loudly, — 

We’ve got something beau-ti-ful for you at 
our house. Aunt Kathie. We’ve got — and then 
there was a pause, as if the important secret must 
not be too quickly told. 

A bird of Paradise ?” Miss Woodward said as 
well as she could for the choking to which she 
was patiently submitting. 

• No, something better than that,” they laughed. 
We’ve got. Aunt Kathie, a real, live, baby 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 107 


brother at our house, and he is your Christmas 
present/^ 

My Christmas present, you blessed birdies ! 
Miss Woodward said, with a laugh and a sob. 

Well, I^m going straight over to see him. You 
need not expect me to wait until morning, espe- 
cially when I know I couldn^t find him in my 
stocking. Come, Margery, you must go with us ; 
it is only across the street.’^ And in a few minutes 
the laughing little party stood in the pai'sonage. 

And so all through that pleasant evening the 
Christmas-bells rang their gentle chimes of peace 
and good-will in the Christian home in which 
Margery found herself so sincerely and warmly 
welcomed. 

In all her life she had never before seen such a 
home, and Margery felt that it was, indeed, good 
to be in it. And when, late in the evening, the 
hour came for rest, it was very sweet to listen while 
Mrs. Woodward read the story, forever old and 
yet forever new, of the shepherds^ watch and the 
angels^ chant ; and, sweeter yet, to kneel around 
that glad home altar, and, with a full heart, offer 
thanks for the sacred Christmas gift, that faith 
whispered was truly bestowed on her, — the gift 
of a Saviour who was Christ the King. 

It all tended to gladden, and yet, at the same 
time, subdue Margery. Miss Woodward, when she 
bent over her to give her a good-night kiss, was 


108 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


not much surprised to feel that her cheeks were 
wet with tears, nor to hear her broken whispers, — 
Oh, Miss Kathie^^ — for Margery had already 
adopted the home name — I’d give everything in 
the world, if I had it, for a home like yours.” 

Tender, sympathizing kisses answered her first, 
and then Miss Kathie said softly, as she heard 
Margery’s stifled sobs, — 

Hush, dear, our homes are chosen for us by a 
Father who makes no mistakes, and whatever they 
may be, we can always in them find room for joy- 
ful service, for thanksgiving, and” — while the 
gentle voice fell a little lower — for faith’s sweet 
work of trust. That, dear Margery, is all that, as 
loving children, we need to ask.” 

Wish you a Merrie Christmas !” childish voices 
were calling through the house, when, in the pink 
flush of the early dawn, Margery awoke the next 
morning ; and in quiet and glad content the hours 
of that Christmas day went by, until the twilight 
shadows began to gather, and Miss Woodward 
reminded Margery that it was time to dress for 
Mrs. MacMillan’s party. 

It was not to be a fashionable affair,” Miss 
Kathie explained ; only a pleasant gathering of 
old friends and neighbors.” Such Margery found 
it, when, an hour or two later, she entered Mrs. 
MacMillan’s house. 

It was an old-fashioned country house, such as 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 109 


we now and then stumble upon in some of the 
world’s quiet corners, where the Queen Anne craze 
has not set every one, if not to building new houses, 
at least to remodeling the old ones. Tlie low, wide 
rooms were all thrown open that night ; great oaken 
fires were blazing in the large fire-places, and every- 
where a sweet, subtle influence, as intangible as the 
perfume of a flower, and yet as penetrating, seemed to 
say that the old house was in the truest sense a home. 

Margery’s first thouglit, as she entered the warm, 
bright parlor was, Oh, what a lovely room ! ” but 
she forgot the room the next moment, when a 
silvery-haired, sweet-voiced lady turned from wel- 
coming Miss Kathie to speak to her. 

Miss Margery Hamilton,” she repeated after 
Miss Kathie, with a curious accent of surprise and 
pleasure in her tone. My dear, I am very glad 
to see you. Miss Kathie’s friends are always wel- 
come, but I do not believe she could have brought 
me one to-night more welcome than yourself.” 

Miss Woodward smiled. was looking out 
the true meaning of the word introduction the 
other day,” she said, while Margery, with her 
hand still in Mrs. MacMillan’s warm clasp, stood 
quietly beside her; it comes from two Latin 
words that mean to lead within.” 

Where soul can speak to soul,” Mrs. Mac- 
Millan softly suggested. 

Yes,” Miss Kathie went on. I am afraid, in 
10 


110 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


this cold world, it will not be my privilege to give 
many such introductions ; but I did want to give 
one, and, possibly, two to-night/^ And then, with 
a sudden change of voice, she asked, Isn’t Archie 
here this evening ?” 

Mrs. MacMillan’s smile was a little sad. Not 
yet,” she answered ; I hoped he would arrive this 
morning ; but, instead, I received a telegram say- 
ing he was unavoidably detained for a few hours. 
He may come to-night, but, probably, not until 
to-morrow. Miss Katliie,” — as new guests ap- 
peared in the door, — will you keep Miss Margery 
under your wing, and give her a home-feeling 
here until I am free to do it myself?” And, with 
a smile that set Margery to thinking of several 
things, Mrs. MacMillan left them. 

^^What are you dreaming about, Margery?” 
Miss Woodward asked, a little later, as she turned 
from speaking to some old friends, and noticed the 
young girl’s thoughtful face. 

I am so puzzled !” Margery exclaimed. I 
do not understand it at all.” 

You look so. Well, Margery, there are a 
great many puzzles in life that you probably 
never will understand ; but, perhaps, this one 
can be easily explained. Suppose you tell it 
to me.” 

Margery’s perplexed face did not change. I 
am thinking — ” she began, slowly, and then 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. Ill 


abruptly concluded with : Miss Katliie, I met a 
Mr. MacMillan last summer.^^ 

It was Miss Katliie^s turn now to look puzzled. 
^^You met a Mr. MacMillan she repeated. 

Why, where were you last summer 

At the sea-shore — at a place called Quantuck. 
And I am wondering — Margery proceeded to 
explain — if that Mr. MacMillan and this Mrs. 
MacMillan can be any relation. He was very 
good/^ she added. 

Miss Kathie laughed a little. And you think 
that goodness ought to belong to goodness, do 
you she asked. In the millennium it doubtless 
will, Margery ; but I am afraid that in this case it 
does not. Mrs. MacMillan has a son, and, like the 
Mr. MacMillan you met, ^ he is very good ; ^ but 
he spent last summer in Europe with an invalid 
uncle, and though I have known of his doing a 
great many things I do not believe any one else 
could do, still I imagine that to be in two places 
at once would exceed even his ability.'^ 

Kathie, Kathie Woodward,’^ said one of Miss 
Woodward^s friends just then, we are going to 
play blind-man’s-buif in the next room. Won^t 
you and Miss Hamilton join us 

Yes,^^ Miss Woodward readily answered. 

Come, Margery.^^ 

It was a new game to Margery. I have 
never played it,^^ she said, with a secret wish 


112 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


that Miss Woodward would let her ignorance 
excuse her. 

But Miss Kathie was in no mood to do that. 
^^It is one of those pleasant things, then, to which 
I am glad to introduce you,^^ she said, playfully. 

But look well to your ways, my dear, for if the 
blind-man catches you, I am afraid there will be 
no escaping that handkerchief.^^ 

There was no escaping it, as, a little while after, 
Margery regretfully found. 

There was no help for her : she was caught, 
and she must submit to the penalty and be blind- 
folded ; and soon she was groping about the room 
in a fruitless effort to catch the laughing players, 
who always seemed to be just within her reach, 
and yet never failed to elude and get beyond her. 

She was gro\^ig a little hopeless of ever catch- 
ing any one, and was making a desperate push for 
a certain corner where she fancied she lieard whis- 
pering, when a door at the opposite end of the 
room opened, and the quick, laughing rush towards 
it seemed to say that something at once unexpected 
and pleasant had happened. Margery waited a 
few moments, but no one came to explain the 
cause of the excitement; she could understand 
nothing from the buzz of the merry voices, and, a 
little doubtful of the propriety of removing her 
bandage, she slowly groped her way down the 


room. 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 113 


Look out P said some one at her approach ; 
and then there was another laughing scurry, and 
poor Margery dived frantically at this and that 
dodging figure until, suddenly, to her great con- 
tent, her hand grasped a coat-sleeve. 

Oh, IVe caught somebody, she said, wdth a 
long-drawn breath of relief. 

^^You certainly have,’^ Miss Woodward said^ 
merrily; guess who, Margery 

The room Avas just then very still, and yet 
Margery had an intuitive consciousness that every 
one Avas laughing; and she had also the odd con- 
viction that her captive had raised his free arm as 
if to hush them. Vainly, in her embarrassment, 
she tried to find a name. 

Is it Mr. Woodward she asked, doubtfully, 
at last. 

There Avas another laugh at this ; but then the 
arm Margery was grasping gently released itself, 
a kind hand removed the bandage from her weary 
eyes and a pleasant voice said, — 

^^We won’t require impossibilities; but what 
the blind cannot tell, perhaps the seeing can.” 
And with a little laughing gesture of submission, 
the speaker Avaited quietly before Margery. 

With a shy, pretty grace, she looked up at him. 
The room was very bright Avith the great fire, 
Avhose red light was playing on the pictured Avails 
and deepening the color in Margery’s cheeks and 
10 * 


H 


114 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


the golden brown tints of her hair, while it 
brought out in bold relief her captive^s smiling 
face. 

Who was he? Not Mr. Woodward, she was 
sure of that ; but was he any one she had been 
introduced to that evening and ought to recognize? 
The pleasant eyes seemed very familiar, as she 
glanced up at them ; but Margery tried in vain to 
name their owner, and with a little despairing 
shake of her head, she looked at Miss Woodward. 

^^My memory is better than my captor’s, it 
seems,” the gentleman said, in a low, laughing 
voice. Miss Kathie, won’t you introduce me ?” 

The Rev. Archibald MacMillan, Miss Ham- 
ilton,” Miss Kathie said, demurely; but then both 
her voice and manner changed. 

^^Oh, Archie,” she said, joyously, ^^you don’t 
know how glad we are that you are home to-night.” 

Mr. MacMillan’s smile was as bright as Miss 
Kathie’s, as he answered, It is one of the cases, 
then, in which want of knowledge does not occa- 
sion want of sympathy, for I, too, am very glad to 
be at home to-night.” 

And as with these words he moved to speak to 
another old friend, Margery availed herself of the 
opportunity to escape from the smiling group that 
was gathering about him, and going to the fire, 
she stood there watching, with dreamy eyes, the 
glowing coals. 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 115 


Yes, it was the same Mr. MacMillan she met at 
Quantuck ; was she glad or sorry to meet him 
again? She was still considering that question 
when some one beside her asked, — 

Are quarrels ever allowable at Christmas-time, 
Miss Hamilton and she looked up to meet 
again Mr. MacMillan’s laughing eyes. 

Margery was puzzled; but the odd question 
must be answered ; so she said, — 

cannot think of any good reason for a 
quarrel to-night, Mr. MacMillan.” 

Can you not ? Then I suppose I must resist 
the strong inclination I feel to quarrel with you 
for having forgotten me. Miss Hamilton.” 

The color in Margery’s face grew brighter; but 
she answered with simple truthfulness : I had 
not forgotten, but I was very much surprised ; for 
when I asked Miss Kathie, she said you were not 
Mr. MacMillan ” 

Perhaps Margery’s explanation lacked clearness, 
but nevertheless Mr. MacMillan understood her. 

Miss Kathie’s word is not to be disputed usu- 
ally,” he said, with a smile ; but in this case I 
cannot allow her to deny my identity, and I there- 
fore afSrm that I am Mr. MacMillan.” 

^^Then, Archie,” Miss Kathie exclaimed, please 
substantiate that affirmation by explaining how 
you could possibly be in two places at once. You 
were in Europe; how could you be in Quantuck?” 


116 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Easily. I went to Quantuck for just one 
Sabbath immediately after my return from Eu- 
rope. Perhaps you did not know it/^ — and both 
face and voice were serious now as Mr. MacMillan 
looked at Miss Woodward, — ^^but Hugh Trinot 
was then at Quantuck. He was just recovering 
from a severe illness and was trying what the sea 
air and baths could do for him ; and at Professor 
Carter’s request I went down there to see him.” 

Miss Woodward’s whole expression changed, 
and Margery had never seen her look as sad as she 
did, for one moment, when she slowly said, No — 
I — did not— know it.” It was but fora moment. 
Then, whatever had occasioned her sadness, she 
resolutely banished it. 

Well,” she said, brightly as ever, ‘^your ex- 
planation must be pronounced satisfactory, I sup- 
pose ; but now, as Miss Posa Dartle would say, I 
only ask for information,’ and I wish some one 
would tell me why you were not a little more sur- 
prised at meeting Margery here to-night. You 
had no reason to expect it.” 

I beg your pardon. I always expect pleasant 
things, especially at Christmas, and then — I had 
just seen my mother.” 

Oh ! And she gave you a list of all her 
guests, I suppose ?” 

Hardly. She mentioned a few, — yourself 
and Miss Hamilton, among others.” 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 117 


And by what law of association — I wish some 
one would tell me, to quote Miss Dartle again — 
did you arrive at the conclusion that the Miss 
Hamilton under my protection and the Miss Ham- 
ilton you met at Quantuck were one and the 
same 

Miss Woodward had not seen the meeting be- 
tween Mrs. MacMillan and her son, nor heard the 
mother^s voice when she said, Archie, I hardly 
know why, but I feel quite sure that the Miss 
Hamilton you were so much interested in last 
summer is here to-night.^^ And so, perhaps, she 
had good cause for her curiosity ; but evidently 
Mr. MacMillan had no intention of gratifying it. 

With a little laugh he said, teasingly, Do you 
remember your old song, ^ Wouldn^t You Like 
to Know,’ Kathie ?” 

And then, turning again to Margery, he said. 

Miss Hamilton, if (as I hope) I have succeeded 
in proving, beyond question, that ^ I be I,’ will 
you let me take you where I can have the plea- 
sure of breaking bread with you ?” 

That is a dangerous request for you to grant, 
Margery,” Miss Woodward said, as Mr. MacMil- 
lan was leading Margery and herself to the supper- 
room. Breaking bread with Archibald Mac- 
Millan is, in his meaning, the same as agreeing to a 
treaty of peace or friendship, and if you are be- 
guiled into doing that, my dear, I warn you that 


118 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


you can never dare say no, when he says yes, to 
any question/^ 

Margery’s laugh, in its happy freedom from all 
coquetry and self-consciousness, was a pleasant 
thing to hear. 

Won’t I dare to ask a question, either?” she 
said. Because if I won’t, I want to stop right 
here and ask one now. Mr. MacMillan, please 
tell me, have you seen Professor Carter lately ? 
Is he well ?” 

Very well. I saw him only a few days ago.” 

Are we never coming to the end of this book of 
revelations ! ” Miss W ood ward exclaimed. Mar- 
gery Hamilton, do you mean to tell me you know 
my uncle. Professor Carter ?” 

Your uncle !” Margery repeated, in surprise. 
^^Yes, I know him — a little — Miss Kathie.” 

Perhaps something in the tone of her voice sug- 
gested, to one of her listeners, that Margery 
would rather not be questioned further just there 
about her acquaintance with Professor Carter, and, 
with some playful remark to Miss Woodward, Mr. 
MacMillan adroitly changed the conversation. 

^^Miss Kathie,” Mrs. MacMillan said, when, 
some time later. Miss Woodward and Margery 
were bidding her good-night, I know you are 
hardly ready to visit outside friends yet, and so I 
waive my claim upon you until your mother has 
seen more of you ; but, if she is not too tired, will 


TEE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 119 


you lend this little girl to me for a while to-mor- 
row ? I would like to know her better, and will 
send for her early in the afternoon, if she will 
come. Will she And Mrs. MacMillan turned 
smilingly to Margery. 

Joyfully Margery accepted the kind invitation, 
and joyfully, the next afternoon, she prepared for 
her visit, and then seated herself in the window 
to watch for Mrs. MacMillan’s messenger. 

Miss Kathie,” she said soon, do look out 
and see these beautiful horses. Do you suppose 
they can be Mrs. MacMillan’s ?” 

Before Kathie could reach the window, the 
sleigh stopped at her door and Margery ex- 
claimed, — 

They surely must be. Miss Kathie, for they 
have stopped here. And — why — Miss Kathie, 
Mr. MacMillan has come himself!” 

I am not surprised,” Miss Woodward answered. 

Archibald MacMillan is a firm believer in Miles 
Standish's old rule, — ^ if you wish a thing to be well 
done, you must do it yourself ; you must not leave 
it to others.’ ” 

You won’t freeze in that sleigh nor be thrown 
out of it this afternoon, Margery ; so much I can 
safely promise you.” 

Mr. MacMillan, when he entered, was soon 
found to have more than one thing on his mind 
that day that he was anxious to have well done. 


120 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


He was commissioned by his mother, he pleas- 
antly explained, to take Miss Hamilton to her ; 
and at the same time he wanted to take Miss 
Kathie for a sleigh-ride. His mind, he playfully 
assured her, felt like a trunk in danger of burst- 
ing from being over-packed — it was so filled with 
messages from her uncle and other friends. He 
was very anxious to deliver them. Would she 
go with him now and hear them? Mrs. Mac- 
Millan, he added, meant to keep Miss Hamilton 
to tea, but he would only keep Miss Kathie out 
for an hour or two. 

Miss Kathie was very willing to take the 
pleasure he offered her, and, as a consequence, 
Margery spent the quiet hours of that afternoon 
alone with Mrs. MacMillan. 

They were pleasant hours — hours that through 
all her after-life the young girl never forgot. 
She did not understand why Mrs. MacMillan 
should feel so much interested in her ; but that 
she was interested appeared to be an undeniable 
fact, and Margery took the good of it, without 
speculating as to the whys and wherefores, and gave 
Mrs. MacMillan — -just what that lady wanted most 
— many truthful and attractive glimpses of a charac- 
ter of which, however short, it might fall of per- 
fection, this much could be safely predicted : that 
it would aim always at the highest, and strive 
to choose always the best. 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 12i 


The short winter day closed early, but Margery 
and Mrs. MacMillan were still sitting in the 
dusky, fire-lighted library when Mr. MacMillan 
came in. 

“Ah ! he said, as, with a pleasant word of 
greeting to Margery and his mother, he dropped 
into a chair beside the hearth, and extended his 
hands to the warm blaze, “ this is truly comfort.^^ 

“What makes you so unusually appreciative of 
it to-night his mother asked. 

“Miss Kathie, I suppose/^ he answered, soberly. 

“ Kathie Mrs. MacMillan echoed ; “ have 
you been talking with her all this afternoon 

“ Yes. We were out longer than I intended, 
but there seemed much to ask and to tell. And,^^ 
Mr. MacMillan continued, while he looked earn- 
estly at his mother, “ it was the thought of how 
much seems crowded into some lives, and how 
much left altogether out of others, that made me, 
I think, feel especially thankful for the warmth 
and fullness of blessing in my own life and home 
to-night.^^ 

Mrs. MacMillan drew nearer to her son, and 
laid her hand gently on his head. 

“ ^ God knoweth ever what is best to give unto his 
own,^ she softly quoted. And then, in a moment, 
she added; “ Dear Kathie ! I wish — but, what- 
ever her wish was, Mrs. MacMillan did not ex- 
press it. “We know that all things work together 
11 


122 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


for good to them that love God/^ she said, in con- 
clusion, with a little thrill of joy in her voice; 
and then, returning to the matter-of-fact things of 
every-day, she said, — 

^^Come, Archie, if you are ready. I know 
Dulcie’s chocolate and muffins are.^^ 

The pleasant tea was over, and in the cozy 
library Margery was looking at some fine, large 
stereoscopic views, when Mr. MacMillan, as he re- 
moved a picture of Windsor Castle and substi- 
tuted a view of Westminster Abbey, said: 

^^Many who have ended their pilgrimage are 
resting there. Miss Hamilton. Their trials and 
triumphs are alike past; they are of no conse- 
quence now, save as they helped or hindered their 
gaining, not earth’s laurel wreaths, but heaven’s 
star-gemmed crowns.” 

Yes,” Margery said, with a little sigh. If 
only they could have known once what they know 
now, Mr. MacMillan.” 

It would have made but little difference,” he 
answered, gravely. ^ Enough to know ’ is al- 
ways given us. It is not so much knowledge 
as faith the soul needs to guide it heavenward.” 

Faith is an easy word to speak,” Margery 
said, as she sat back in her chair ; but it is a 
hard lesson to learn.” 

Have you found it so ? Do you still find it 
so?” Mr. MacMillan asked, with kind interest. 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 123 


Yes, it is a hard lesson, Miss Hamilton, until 
our whole hearts are interested in it, our whole 
wills bent on learning it/^ 

Even then,^^ Margery said, with a very sober 
face, ‘‘ it seems to me, we learn it very slowly/^ 

He smiled a little, though his next words were 
very grave. How far along in that lesson are 
you he asked : how much of it have you yet 
learned 

^^Not much,^^ Margery answered, with the 
humble frankness of a child, I know there are 
a multitude of precious promises in my Bible, 
Mr. MacMillan, but I seem really to possess very 
few of them — yet.’’ 

There is one promise — will never leave 
thee, nor forsake thee ’ — which is a sure guarantee 
that all the others shall be yours, if only you fol- 
low on to know the Lord,” Mr. MacMillan said, 
kindly. Have you become acquainted yet with 
the pilgrim. Professor Carter loves so much?” he 
asked, after a moment’s pause. 

^ Pilgrim’s Progress ’ ? Yes ; I have read it 
once, and am reading it again.” 

I am very glad. I do not believe it can be 
read too often,” Mr, MacMillan replied. Have 
you, may I ask, come to the House Beautiful 
yet ?” 

^^No,” Margery said, in a low, thoughtful 
voice. Professor Carter helped me out of the 


124 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Slough of Despond, and Miss Kathie helped me 
to drop my burden. But^^ — and she sighed un- 
consciously — I sometimes think, as I look for- 
ward, that the hill Difficulty is still before me, 
Mr. MacMillan.’^ 

He watched her with earnest, interested eyes. 

It is not always wise to anticipate the trials of 
the future,^^ he said, gently. 

“ ‘ Looking forward strains the eye-sight/ 
and only 

‘ Looking upward opens heaven/ 

As the helpers have come heretofore when you 
most needed them, you must trust that they will 
come when needed hereafter. But — do you re- 
.member the little spring, at the foot of the hill, 
from which Christian drank before he began to 
climb V’ 

Yes,^^ Margery said, quickly. 

Have you drank from it?^^ 

The kind but searching question touched Mar- 
gery deeply. 

I donft know,^^ she humbly confessed. I 
am not sure I know just what that spring stands 
for.^^ 

It may stand, perhaps, for any great help or 
blessing that strengthens the Christian to go 
bravely and hopefully along his way, however 
toilsome and steep it may be,’^ Mr. MacMillan 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL, 125 


gently explained. For some it means^ I think, 
the courage and joy that come when, as members 
of his family, they enter the Father’s house and 
stand before the world as acknowledged and pro- 
fessed Christians, pledged to the service and the 
following of Christ.” 

^^Is it always necessary to drink of that spring ?” 
Margery asked, in a troubled voice. 

Is it not always necessary for a dutiful, loving 
child to honor a wise and tender father?” was his 
gentle, answering question. 

^^Do you really think it helps us?” Margery 
asked again. 

Do you mean to ask, if I think we are helped 
in our Christian life by coming out and joining 
the church?” Mr. MacMillan said, very seri- 
ously. ‘^Yes, Miss Hamilton; about that there 
can be no question. What Christ requires, it 
can never be anything but a blessing to his 
servants to perform. By that spring, you re- 
member, Christian was refreshed and strengthen- 
ed before he began to go up the hill, and I believe 
that many a weak and wavering disciple is kept 
from making shipwreck of his faith altogether, 
by the solemn consciousness that the Church 
claims him as a member, and the fact that he has 
given his word to the Lord and dare not go 
back.” 

‘^But sometimes we seem to be hindered and 
11 * 


126 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


opposed, and friends disapprove/^ Margery sadly 
suggested. 

We call a great many things hindrances that, 
rightly used, would prove our greatest helps,^^ Mr. 
MacMillan said, thoughtfully. "^Opposition is a 
painful trial, yet it is a sure test of our sincerity 
and constancy. And — Mr. MacMillan paused a 
moment, and then said, gently but decidedly, as he 
watched Margery’s earnest face — where friends 
disapprove, a Christian has but one course to pur- 
sue — to find out what God approves and do that, 
and leave all the consequences to him.” 

That night, as Margery was brushing out her 
hair, she suddenly asked : 

^^Miss Kathie, will there be a communion 
service here before we go back to school?” 

^^Yes, Margery.” 

^^Then, if I write and ask father’s permission, 
do you think Mr. Woodward would be willing to 
receive me into his church ?” 

Willing!” Miss Woodward said, with a sweet 
though serious face. ^^Yes, more than willing, 
Margery. He will feel like Bunyan’s saints, ^Glad 
when he shall hear the sound of thy feet step 
over thy Father’s threshold.’” 

will write to my father to-morrow,” Mar- 
gery resolved, as she dropped her head upon her 
pillow ; and, true to her resolve, her first act in the 
morning was to write her letter. 


THE SPRING AT THE FOOT OF THE HILL. 127 


An answer soon came. 

Clifford was no better. Mr. Hamilton feared 
the worst, — though that fact he carefully concealed 
from Margery,— and in his anxiety and grief for 
one child, he felt little disposition to deny the 
other the dearest wish of her heart. The world^s 
honors and pleasures were seen in a truer light as 
the father watched over his moaning son, and for 
the time he felt in his soul that it would be a 
blessed thing if they were all like Margery — safe 
whether they lived or died. 

His kind assurance that ‘^she might do as she 
pleased^^ removed Margery^s last doubt, and with 
a heart full of thanksgiving she stood in Mr. 
Woodward’s church on the first Sabbath in the 
new year, and solemnly, in the presence of men 
and the great cloud of witnesses,” avouched the 
Lord Jehovah to be her Lord, and pledged herself 
forever more to be his willing servant, and to 
walk in all his ways and to hearken unto his 
voice.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 

“ But the narrovr way lay right up the hill, and the name of 
the going up the side of the hill is called Difficulty. ... I 
looked then, after Christian, to see him go up the hill, where I 
perceived he feU from running to going, and from going to 
clambering upon his hands and his knees, because of the steep- 
ness of the place.^^— PilgrMs Progress, 

Tj^ ARLY in the first week of the new year Mar- 
^ gery and Miss Woodward returned to school, 
and Margery took up her old life again with a 
stronger purpose to walk worthy of the vocation 
wherewith she was called/^ and with the one hum- 
ble, sincere prayer, that all the changes of the year, 
whether sorrowful or glad, might only make her 
more like him, who lived in this world and yet 
was not of it, and who, through all his life, sought 
not to do his own will, but the will of the Fatlier 
who sent him. 

Are some of my young readers tempted to 
think, and even say, that Margery was setting up 
too high a standard for herself, and making too 
personal a matter and too literal an application of 
the command : Be not conformed to this world^^? 

( 128 ) 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


129 


The world, I know, would say so. Many, even, 
who are professed Christians, I fear would say so. 
Christ says differently ; and it was Christ whom 
Margery had chosen for her guide, and Christ 
whose voice she meant to obey. 

She did not know the trials before her. She 
could not even guess the temptations that would 
beset her ; but she did know that he wdio went 
before his disciples in the way going up to Jeru- 
salem was just as surely going now before her, 
and knowing that, she could walk steadfastly on- 
ward, following as she was led. 

She had expected to remain at Madame Girard’s 
until the close of the school year, but as the spring 
vacation approached, her parents began to form 
other plans for her. Clifford was well again and 
once more engrossed in the fashionable society in 
which it was his highest ambition to have a name 
and a place. And Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, when 
once their anxiety for their son was relieved, had 
returned with zest to their old life, reminding one 
of trees, that are sometimes, by some great weight, 
bent down in a direction contrary to their growth, 
but that, as soon as the restraint is removed, spring 
back to their natural position. 

They were very ambitious for Margery ; they had 
formed plans for her that her peculiar notions,” 
as they called them, threatened to ruin. School-life 
was evidently, as Mrs. Hamilton pathetically said, 

I 


130 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


failing to cure her/^ Now her parents resolved 
to try other ways and means of accomplishing 
their purposes for her. So early in the spring, at 
the close of the winter term, Margery was taken 
home. Masters were provided for some of her 
favorite studies, and for a little while the girl 
rejoiced in the freedom and ease that seemed 
especially pleasant after the restraint and discipline 
of her school-life. 

She was very happy, but her parents and brother 
watched her with dissatisfied eyes. 

They could not deny that she was lovelier in 
character than ever, more thoughtful of the com- 
fort of all around her, more gentle in word and 
manner, more patient under reproof, and more 
willing to resign her own wishes and forsake the 
doing of her own will in order to please others. 

But as an otfset to all this, there was her firm 
refusal to do anything she thought wrong, — her 
quiet indiflFerence to the young and giddy society 
they tried to gather around her ; her devotion to 
the church, and prayer-meetings, and Sabbath- 
school, and her growing interest in missions and 
all religious and charitable work. 

I do not understand,^’ Mrs. Hamilton said^ 
fretfully, to her husband one day, why my only 
daughter should be so unlike other girls. If she 
were only like Laura Stanton, now, I could take 
some comfort in her ; but as she is, she annoys me 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


131 


greatly, and I do wish you had not consented to 
let her join the church/^ 

I do not know/^ Mr. Hamilton slowly replied, 
as I am sorry I did that ; it is a very respecta- 
ble thing to be a church member, and I would not 
object to Margery’s being a Christian, if she was 
only like the Christians we see all around us — 
dressing and living just as we do, with no diflPerence 
between us that any one can see. It is all very well, 
of course, to prepare for death, but while folks are 
alive, I think their wisest plan is to live like other 
people. They need not be worse, but I really do 
not think they need try to be better than their 
neighbors.” 

‘^Well,” Mrs. Hamilton said, impatiently, ^Mf 
you would cn^.y find some way to make Margery 
like other people, I’d be thankful.” 

Mr. Hamilton considered his wife’s su^o:estion 

oo 

a few moments ; then he said, as if a bright idea 
had just occurred to him : 

Dress her beautifully and take her into so- 
ciety.” 

^^She always has dressed beautifully,” Mrs. 
Hamilton said quickly, with a little resentment 
that Mr. Hamilton should, for a moment, suppose 
that that important part of Margery’s education 
had ever been neglected ; and she doesn’t seem to 
care much about it, either,” she added, dolefully. 
And as for society, she told me the other day she 


132 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


didn’t want fashionable acquaintances. She only 
wanted friends who were wiser and better than 
herself, and who would help her to grow like them.’' 

Mr. Hamilton frowned and stroked his beard, 
as was his custom when annoyed or perplexed. 

Indulgent as we are, Margery must be made 
to understand that we are not disposed to gratify 
all her whims,” he said presently, in a decided 
voice. My mind is made up. I will put an 
end to this nonsense. Send out your invitations 
for a dinner party next Thursday.” 

Mrs. Richman has already sent us invitations 
for a ball for that evening.” 

^^So much the better. We will go from the 
dinner table to the ball-room.” 

But Margery told me this morning she did 
not want to go to the ball.” 

^^She will go. It is no longer a question of 
what she wants, but of what I will.” 

Mr. Stevenson has just returned from Paris, 
and is at his aunt’s, Mrs. Stanton’s,” Mrs. Ham- 
ilton said, in a moment, in a very quiet but pecu- 
liar tone, ^^and Laura told me yesterday he was 
very anxious to meet Margery. You remember 
how she disappointed him that Sunday last fall.” 

^^She will not disappoint him again,” Mr. 
Hamilton said, almost fiercely. If Margery does 
not know enough to take care of her own interests, 
why I will take care of them for her; that’s all.” 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFWULTY, 


133 


And with a bang of the door that seemed to add 
^'and that’s enough/’ Mr. Hamilton went off to 
his office. 

Thursday soon came. The invitations for the 
dinner had been sent out and accepted, and late in 
the afternoon Margery dressed herself for the 
evening. Mrs. Hamilton superintended her toilet 
and declared herself well satisfied with its re- 
sults. 

^^You look lovely, Margery,” she said, in a 
pleased voice ; now do be a sensible girl and act 
this evening like other people.” 

I will do my best to please you, mother,” Mar- 
gery promised ; but it was with a secret shrinking 
and fear that she left her room. 

In the world, yet not of it,” she thought, sadly, 
as she went slowly down the wide staircase. How 
could she ever conform her life to that high ideal ? 
She was in the world ; at that moment she had a 
vivid consciousness of that fact, and evidently her 
parents meant she should be of the world; while 
opposed to their wishes was Christ’s command. 
Come out from the world and be ye separate.” 

It was the order of her King; yet — weak and 
helpless as she was — could she obey it? 

Sweetly at that moment came the memory of 
David’s words, so strong in their glad faith and 
confidence, — 

will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from 
12 


lU ALONG THE OLD LOAD, 

whence cometli my help. My help cometh from 
the Lord, which made lieaveu and earth.^^ 

Then it was sure help, — help that would never 
fail her. 

Margery rested on it, and dismissing every fear, 
went calmly forward to meet her parents’ guests. 

Laura was there and her cousin, Mr. Stevenson. 
Margery had never met him, but Laura had often 
spoken of him, and Margery well knew that he 
was very wealthy, and that wherever he went, he 
was sought and courted by those who care little how 
light the brains are, as long as the purse is heavy. 

As she acknowledged her introduction to him, 
oddly enough Margery’s thoughts reverted to Miss 
Woodward’s definition of that word — to lead 
within — and then to Mrs. MacMillan’s gentle sug- 
gestion — where soul can speak to soul. 

She would receive no such introductions that 
evening, she sadly decided. But, then, faith whis- 
pered, if she did not, it would be because her 
heavenly Father knew it was best she should not. 
She had not chosen her place that evening, yet 
neither had she come to it by accident. God had 
chosen it for her; whatever the second causes 
might be, he was behind them all, and she had 
only to do her duty and leave all results to him. 

Some such thought had just crossed Margery’s 
mind at the dinner table, when a gentleman near 
her said, — 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY, 


135 


^^Miss Hamilton, you have no wine. Allow 
me.^^ And he held the elegant cut-glass decanter 
temptingly over her glass. 

I do not drink wine/^ Margery said, quietly, 
yet with a painful consciousness that her parents 
were watching and listening to her words. 

You may depart from your usual custom to- 
night, Margery,^^ her father said, in a voice that, 
despite its outward smoothness, covered, she in- 
stinctively felt, a command. 

Then, among so many kinds, father, you will 
let me choose the one I prefer, I am sure,^^ she 
said, gently; ^^and I will choose the oldest in 
existence, the kind Adam and Eve drank in 
Eden.^^ 

Nonsense,” Clifford broke in, angrily, from 
across the table, while Mr. Stevenson, who sat 
beside her, said, in an amused voice, — 

Really, Miss Hamilton, you must excuse me ; 
but, upon my word, this is most extraordinary. 
Do you really mean that you do not drink wine ?” 

I really mean it,” Margery said, with height- 
ened color. 

Mr. Stevenson laughed as if Margery^s answer 
was very amusing. 

Are you wearing a blue ribbon anywhere ?” he 
asked, with pretended curiosity, as he glanced at 
her dress. 

Yes ; in my conscience,” she said, coldly. 


136 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Margery’s conscience is very apt to be dressed 
in colors that are very far from becoming/’ Laura 
said, in a low voice, meant only for her cousin 
and Margery. 

Mr. Stevenson laughed again, sipped his own 
wine with undisguised enjoyment, and then once 
more turned to Margery. 

If you will not drink wine with me. Miss 
Plamilton,” he said, I hope you will not be so 
cruel as to refuse to play cards with me. My 
aunt, Mrs. Stanton, gives a whist-party to- 
morrow evening ; may I count upon you as my 
partner ?” 

Poor Margery fairly winced at that unexpected 
request. She knew that her parents were waiting 
for her answer as well as Mr. Stevenson, and she 
knew also that that answer would bitterly dis- 
please them. But she must give it, and very 
quietly she said, — 

I do not play cards.” 

^^No?” Mr. Stevenson exclaimed, in well- 
feigned surprise. ^VAre cards, as well as wine, 
under the ban. Miss Hamilton ?” 

It would seem so,” Laura said, in a low, con- 
temptuous voice. Some people would make good 
popes if banning innocent pleasures was the only 
thing they had to do.” 

Mr. Stevenson paid no attention to Laura's 
unkind remark. For reasons best known to him- 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


137 


self, he seemed bent on drawing Margery out, and 
making her plainly declare her opinions. 

Whist seems to me a very pleasant parlor 
amusement,’^ he continued, as he found that Mar- 
gery ignored his last question. I think it every 
way more innocent for people to amuse themselves 
with cards than for them to amuse themselves, as 
they so often do, with their tongues, gossiping 
about each other as if characters were nothing 
more than so many yards of ribbon provided ex- 
pressly for them to cut and tear to pieces. I de- 
test gossip. Miss Hamilton ; but I do not see, now, 
^pon my word, I do not see, the slightest harm in 
a game of cards.^^ 

Some eyes are color-blind, you know,^^ Mar- 
gery said, with a tremulous sort of smile, and 
seldom see things in their true light. 

Does that apply to your own eyes or to Mr. 
Stevenson’s ?” Clifford asked, sharply. Possibly, 
if you asked the opinion of your friends, you 
would find that your own ability to distinguish 
blue from red is seriously doubted.” 

“ Beg pardon, Clifford,” Mr. Stevenson said, as 
he again raised his glass in a way that made Mar- 
gery feel that danger was very near ; but, as there 
are no danger signals hung out to-night, it is a 
matter of very little importance whether we call 
red blue or blue red ; but I do want to know — if 
Miss Hamilton will pardon my curiosity — if she 
12 * 


133 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


really is such a Puritan of tho Puritans as to clis- 
a2)prove of cards 

Weeks before Margery had asked herself that 
question, and answered it for once and forever in 
the affirmative. 

Her^s was an earnest nature. She could never 
do things by halves. She had never played a 
game of whist without making every effort to 
win, and without feeling irritated and annoyed 
when beaten. Card-jilaying would certainly never 
help her to grow in sweetness of temper or meek- 
ness of heart. For her it would always be a 
hindrance in her journey heavenward. 

Perhaps she was unusually weak, and others 
were not tempted and influenced as she was? She 
would watch and see. And she did so. She saw 
many games of cards played, but rarely one in 
wffiich there was not more or less of bitterness, 
pride and anger displayed, either in word or 
manner, and often in both. And, judged by that 
alone, Margery decided that cards must be a game 
very dear to Satan, and one in whose invention he 
had aided for the express purpose of encouraging 
angry passions to rise. But Margery’s con- 
sideration of the subject caused her to view it as 
something more than a mere personal matter, that 
might or might not be fraught with harm to her- 
self. She knew — for she had witnessed it — that 
in many pleasant parlor games of cards ” gentle- 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


139 


men — and ladies also — were in the habit of stak- 
ing small sums of money — ^^just for the sake of 
adding to the interest and excitement of the 
game/^ Even worse than this, she knew that her 
own brother Clifford, and many of the young men 
who were his most intimate associates, were in the 
habit of playing in far more public places than 
their own parlors, and of playing there for 
money. 

Knowing all this, Margery had solemnly asked 
herself, ^^What, as a Christian, she ought to 
do ? What Christ would bid her do if he were 
now on earth and she could go to him to decide 
the question for her 

She found her answer in the Bible. Found it 
in her Lord’s own fearful reproach of his people, 
that they were a comfort to Sodom;” found 
it also in St. Paul’s grand rule for Christian life 
and conduct: Wherefore, if meat maketh my 
brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the 
world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend.” 

Cards did make, not only her brother, but many 
another woman’s brother, to offend ; and card- 
playing was one of the ways in which many 
Christians did comfort” the irreligious and un- 
believing. 

Margery had been over the whole ground. She 
was fully convinced in her own mind. But now 
came the bitterest part of it all for the sensitive. 


140 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


shrinking girl — she must give an answer to him 
that opposed. Evidently, Mr. Stevenson meant 
to have that answer. He was waiting for it, and 
watching her with smiling, yet observant eyes. 
Clifford and Laura were also waiting, and her own 
father and mother. 

Oh, if they only knew how much pain they 
caused her ! if they would only let her alone ! 
only let her go her way in peace ! But that, it 
was plain, they would never do, for even while 
she hesitated her father said, sternly, 

^^You have not answered Mr. Stevenson, Mar- 
gery.’’ 

And, without raising her eyes, the troubled girl 
truthfully answered: ^^Yes, I do disapprove of 
cards, Mr. Stevenson.” 

I am afraid you are either far behind the age 
or else a long distance ahead of it,” Mr. Steven- 
son said, carelessly ; but please tell me, am I to 
understand that you prefer gossip to cards ?” 

Is the choice inevitable between the two ?” 
Margery forced herself to ask. ^^That gossip is 
wrong does not prove card-playing right.” 

^^No, and let me assure you that the mere fact 
that you disapprove of cards does not prove them 
wrong,” Clifford said, angrily. ^^You are per- 
fectly ridiculous, Margery. Society will never tol- 
erate your absurd notions, I can tell you that.” 

Society will never be asked to tolerate them,” 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY, 


141 


Mr. Hamilton said, in a smooth, bland voice that 
well concealed his intense displeasure. Margery 
has some extreme notions, Mr. Stevenson, but you 
must excuse her, for she is still young and has 
not yet learned that moderation is the golden rule 
of life. But — and Mr. Hamilton’s tone was as 
emphatic as it was quiet — I think I can promise 
you, that if you do her the honor to ask her, Mar- 
gery will be your partner to-morrow evening.” 

shall certainly ask her,” Mr. Stevenson 
said, with a bow to Margery. And Margery 
made no reply, for words seemed vain and useless. 

Two or three hours later, Margery, with her 
parents, entered Mrs. Richman’s elegant house. 
Nothing grander than that lady’s ball had been 
given in the city that season, said her invited 
guests ; and Margery could not help being fasci- 
nated with the brilliant lights and music, the ex- 
quisite flowers that transformed the beautiful 
rooms into fairy bowers, and the richly-dressed, 
graceful dancers. 

It was a bewitching scene, and for a little while 
Margery watched it, as she would a picture, with 
undisguised pleasure. But she was not suffered 
to enjoy it long. 

^^Miss Hamilton,” Mr. Stevenson said, as at the 
end of a dance he found his way to her, they are 
just forming for a waltz ; may I have the pleasure?” 
and he offered his hand. 


142 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Margery looked up with a disturbed face. 

Excuse me^ please/^ she said, in a low voice. 

But Mr. Hamilton, who stood behind her chair, 
had heard both the request and answer. 

Go ! I command you he whispered in 
her ear, and not daring to disobey, Margery re- 
luctantly arose. 

She had scarcely stood a moment, however, and 
Mr. Stevenson had just bent over her so that his 
breath touched her cheek, when she drew back 
and quietly resumed her seat. 

1 have changed my mind ; I will not dance to- 
night,’^ she said, in a very low but decided voice. 
And after hovering about her a few minutes, and 
saying many frivolous things about her cruelty, 
Mr. Stevenson went off to find another and more 
willing partner. 

. What does this mean ? ’’ Mrs. Hamilton 
whispered, angrily, behind her fan. ^^You are 
positively disgracing me, Margery. Why will 
you be so ridiculous ? 

I cannot help it, mother,’^ Margery whispered 
in reply. I am very sorry to displease you, but 
I cannot dance.’’ 

I thought you knew how to behave yourself 
in company,” Mr. Hamilton said, in a voice that 
was none the less severe because it was very low ; 

but it seems I was sadly mistaken. You are as 
rude as you are foolish. Now you may choose. 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


143 


Either promise me to dance every time you are 
asked this evening, or else go home in the carriage 
alone, knowing that you have incurred my sever- 
est displeasure/^ 

I will go home,^^ Margery said, firmly, though 
she trembled in every limb. 

Mr. Hamilton was too angry to speak, but he 
did not forget to pay due regard to appearances, 
Margery’s sudden departure was explained to his 
hostess as due to a slight indisposition, and then 
his carriage was quickly summoned, and Margery 
placed within it. 

^^You will remain in your room to-morrow 
morning until I send for you,” he said, sternly, as 
he closed the carriage-door, and, more wretched 
than she had ever been before, Margery returned 
to her home. 

The next morning was one of rare and perfect 
beauty. It was an early spring day. Snow-drops 
and crocuses were timidly peeping above the 
moist earth, and blue-birds and robins were just 
beginning to think of their summer homes. The 
world did, indeed, look very lovely that morning ; 
but its loveliness had little power to cheer and 
comfort Margery, as, alone in her room, she waited 
for her father’s summons. 

When and how was this conflict between her 
parents and herself to end ? Margery could not 
tell. It seemed very terrible that obedience to 


144 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Christ should be regarded by her parents as willful 
disobedience to them, and very dreadful that they 
should be determined to make her do the very 
things she felt she ought to leave undone. 
What should she do ? where could she find help ? 
Even as she asked herself that sorrowful question 
a servant came with a message from Mr. Hamilton, 
and as she prepared to obey it, this word came to 
quiet all her fears and strengthen her for the 
trial ; 

I, the Lord thy God, will hold thy right 
hand, saying unto thee. Fear not.’^ 

So held, even though the storm raged fiercely 
around her, faith whispered that she was safe. 
Still she had a very loving human heart, and it 
was a very sorrowful one that morning when she 
entered her parents^ presence. 

Now, tell me, Mr. Hamilton began, sternly, 
as soon as she was seated, tell me why you dis- 
obeyed me last evening, and refused to dance with 
Mr. Stevenson.^^ 

Father,^’ — and in spite of Margery’s sorrow her 
usually soft eyes blazed with indignation as she 
answered, — ^^that man had been drinking; his 
breath was hot with liquor, and he dared to come 
and ask me to dance with him.” 

Stuff, nonsense!” Mrs. Hamilton said, scorn- 
fully. You are no better than other girls, Mar- 
gery, and there was not another girl in that ball- 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


145 


room last night who did not feel complimented by 
any attention from Mr. Stevenson.’^ 

am not like other girls, then, mother. I did 
not feel complimented/^ 

Mr. Hamilton moved uneasily in his chair. 
Man of the world though he was, he yet loved his 
young daughter s purity. He felt a secret rever- 
ence for her scorn of all that was low and mean. 
He hardly wanted to change her there. And 
yet — and yet — he did want her — as he phrased 
it — to be like other people. And in his eyes — 
as in the eyes of how many others ? — wealth and 
position could cover a multitude of sins. 

^^You will have to get used to such things, 
Margery,’^ he said, slowly. Most young men in 
society occasionally indulge a little too freely. You 
will have to overlook it — all women do.^’ 

shall be an exception to other women, then, 
father, for I will never overlook it.’^ 

wonder what you expect, Margery,’^ Mrs. 
Hamilton said, angrily. Here you are, a young 
girl just ready to enter society, and no person and 
no thing seems good enough for you. Do you 
expect to find angels among men ? I warn you — 
you will be disappointed if you do.’’ 

I do not think I expect or require anything 
extravagant, mother. I only want to do right 
myself — as far as I can — and to choose my friends 
among good people.” 

13 K 


146 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


^^And I suppose you do not class Mr. Stevenson 
among your good people 

I do not think he would wish me to class him 
among them, mother.^^ 

And you do not want him for a friend, either, 
I suppose.^^ 

^^No, mother, he never could be a friend of 
mine.^^ 

‘^You are a fool,^^ Mrs. Hamilton said, in an 
excited voice. Here is a young man belonging 
to one of the most aristocratic families in the city, 
possessed of immense wealth, and evidently — 
though I must say I wonder at it — disposed to ad- 
mire you. And you presume to snub and scorn 
him as if, forsooth, he was not good enough for you. 
You ought to be placed in a straight-jacket and fed 
on bread and water until you come to your senses.^^ 
do not Avant to snub him, mother. I simply 
want nothing to do with him.^^ 

You do not know what you want, Margery,^^ 
her father said, calmly. You have not consider- 
ed these matters as you will a few years from now. 
Wealth and position are very desirable things in 
this world, as you will know when you are older. 
And if Ave were to allow you to ruin all your 
prospects by indulging you in these ultra notions, 
you have in some way acquired, you would proba- 
bly regret it bitterly some time, when too late to re- 
trieve what you have lost. We will pass all that 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


147 


for the present. You displeased and disappointed 
me greatly last night. I hoped to see my daugh- 
ter shining in the society for which I have spared 
no pains to fit her, and instead of gratifying my 
reasonable expectations she made me positively 
ashamed of her. Her ill manners might have 
been pardoned in a milk-maid, but they could not 
be pardoned in Miss Hamilton. Yet we will 
overlook all that. We will forgive and forget all 
that has already happened if you will promise us 
for the future to be reasonable and obedient. Will 
you?’^ 

Father, I will obey you always, when I can.^^ 

Why do you add those limiting words, ^ when 
I can T 

Because, father, I am a Christian. I must 
obey Christ first.^^ 

Very well. Probably that obedience can be 
easily reconciled with obedience to us. I believe 
Christ commands children to obey their parents, 
does he not 

Yes, sir.’^ 

Then your course is clear. It is your duty to 
obey me.^^ 

Always when I can, father, I will. But I 
must do what my Bible and my conscience tell 
me I ought to do.^’ 

Pity you were not a Jesuit,’' Mr. Hamilton 
said, bitterly ; such morbid natures as yours 


148 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


ought always lo have a conscience-keeper. But I 
will begin to specify my requirements. Will you 
promise me, first, to go to every party to which 
you may be invited during the remainder of this 
season, and to dance whenever you are asked 

Father, please don’t require me to dance 
round dances — I do not want to — I cannot endure 
them.'’ 

I am sorry to find your powers of endurance 
so sadly limited,” Mr. Hamilton answered, sar- 
castically. But you will have to decide here 
either to endure the dances or else to endure my 
sternest displeasure. You are at liberty to choose 
which will be most agreeable.” 

Father,” Margery cried, as well as she could 
for the sobs that nearly choked her, please do 
not make it so hard for me to do right.” 

I will make it just as hard for you as I can,” 
Mr. Hamilton said, in a cold, severe voice. You 
do not know what is right. You have only got a 
few extreme views in your mind that you are 
brooding over, and that will soon make you, if 
you are not rid of them, a fit subject for a lunatic 
asylum. I will have no more patience with 
them. Call yourself a Christian — if that name is 
one you are particularly fond of — ^and go regu- 
larly to church every Sunday, if you like. But 
understand, once for all, that the other days of 
the week you are to live in the world and do like 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY, 


149 


other people. And now you may go. I will 
give you until to-morrow to decide whether you 
will obey or disobey me. And be sure of this : if 
you presume to disobey me, I will make your 
punishment as heavy as I can. I have a right to 
your obedience and I will have it. Go now ! I 
have nothing more to say to you until to-morrow 
morning.^^ 

Margery could not speak. Silently she left the 
library, and, rushing to her room, dropped on her 
knees beside her bed. God help me r she 
prayed ; God help me, for the way is too hard. 
I shall fail except thou hold me up/^ 

Slowly and sadly the hours of that long day 
went by. Margery spent them in the solitude of 
her own room, but early the next morning her 
father again sent for her. It was with a pale and 
tearful face that she appeared before him, but Mr. 
Hamilton looked even firmer and more decided 
than usual. 

You have had a good many hours to consider 
the subject we discussed yesterday, Margery, he 
said, and I hope you are prepared to tell me now 
that you will comply with our wdshes.^^ 

It was hard for Margery to speak, but with a 
painful effort she managed to say, — 

Father, please tell me once more exactly what 
your wishes are.^^ 

^^They are easy to tell and equally easy to 
13 * 


150 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


gratify/^ was the cool answer. simply wish 
you to conform to the customs of the world and 
act like other people.’^ 

Conform to the customs of the world! Yea, 
verily, that would be an easy thing to do ; but 
only that morning Margery had read ^^Be ye not 
conformed to this world.^^ And she had found 
that order in her Bible, where, if it meant any- 
thing, it meant just what it said. And believing 
that, for Margery there could be no compromising 
nor hesitation. 

Father, she said, in a low, sweet voice, al- 
ways when I can, and just as far as I can, I will 
do as you desire. But where the Bible and 
Christ say no, there, father, I must stop.” 

And you would think it necessary to stop, I 
suppose, whenever you came to a ball-room, or 
a theatre, or to a wine-glass, or a card-table, 
would you not?” 

Yes, father.” The answer was low and sad, 
but very firm. 

^^Youarea perfect fanatic,” Mrs. Hamilton 
said, in a sharp, angry voice. ^^You are reading 
meanings into your Bible that do not belong there. 
If you would only use a little common sense, you 
would find it easy enough to do like the rest of 
the world.” 

Hush 1” Mr. Hamilton said, almost sternly, to 
his wife ; and then in a moment he continued, — 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY, 


151 


" ^^largery, you are doing a very unusual and a 
very uncalled-for thing. I really think you have 
a very mistaken idea of religion. It was intended 
to prepare men for death. I do not believe it was 
ever expected that people would carry it into 
every detail of their daily life. Look around you. 
Every^i'here you will see Chi-istians — members of 
church — who do, without any hesitation, the very 
things you are refusing to do ; yet they have Bi- 
bles as well as you. And if the Bible really for- 
bids — ^as you think it does — ^indulgence in all 
these worldly pleasures, why do they not obey it ? 
Do you not see that, in acting as you do, you are 
really setting yourself up as better than your 
neighbors, and virtually condemning them ? For 
such conduct you will receive small thanl^s or 
love, I can assure you.’^ 

"I do not mean to do anything like that,^^ 
Margery answered, with a sob. If the Bible is 
true, father, then Christians are to follow Christ, 
and I cannot believe that Christ would ever lead 
me into ball-rooms or theatres, would ever sit 
down with me at a card-table, or ever — when it 
causes so much misery — look with pleasure at the 
wine-glass.” 

Mr. Hamilton bit his lip in undisguised anger. 
"Will nothing make you reasonable?” he asked, 
fiercely. " ilargery, I warned you yesterday that I 
would punish you severely if you persisted in your 


152 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


disobedience, and you know well that I am in the 
habit of keeping my promises. Now, listen ; two 
weeks from to-day I propose to sail for Europe. 
Your mother will go with me, — you, too, if you are 
obedient, — and we will remain abroad for at least six 
months. You are very fond of traveling. You 
have often wished to go to Europe. Now here is 
your opportunity. Speak but one word ; say only 
yes when I ask you noiv — for the last time — to 
do as I wish, and there is no pleasure that love 
and money can procure that you shall not enjoy. 
Everywhere you wish to go you shall go. Every- 
thing you desire to possess you shall possess, if 
wealth can buy it. And, over and above all else,^^ 
— and Mr. Hamilton’s voice trembled with deep 
feeling now, — you will have the glad knowledge 
that you have made me very happy; that you 
are still as you have always been — the darling 
of my heart. Will you do as I wish, Margery ?” 

There was a profound silence in that beautiful 
room for many moments after Mr. Hamilton’s last 
words. Once or twice a coal fell from the grate, 
glowed brightly on the hearth for an instant and 
then went out. And once a sigh from Mr. Hamil- 
ton and a sob from Margery told how solemn was 
the moment. No other sounds broke the painful 
hush in which a young heart was gathering all its 
strength for the decision on which its destiny 
throughout eternity, perhaps, would rest. 


CLIMBING HILL DIFFICULTY. 


153 


Margery moved at last. Her lips half parted 
as if to speak. 

‘^Wait/^ Mr. Hamilton commanded, as he 
watched her face. 

I have said how I would reward your obedi- 
ence, Margery. Hear, now, how I will punibh 
your disobedience. There is an old place, far 
away from here, on the south side of Long Island. 
It is a lonely place ; so small it does not deserve 
the name of a village. It is far away from the 
railroad, from a telegraph, or even from a post- 
office. Pine woods hem it in on one side and a 
great bay spreads between it and the ocean on the 
other. One might almost as well be out of the 
world as there, Margery ; but there you will go 
if you will not obey me. There is a plain, old- 
fashioned farm-house, a mile at least from any 
neighbors, where I will procure board for you, 
and there, under Mrs. True’s care, you will re- 
main during all our absence abroad. Is it worth 
while to make yourself as miserable as you will 
be there, Margery ? Will you not yield now and 
make us all happy ?’’ 

Father — forgive me — I — cannot.’* 

As he heard those decisive words, Mr. Hamil- 
ton’s face grew rigid. 

So be it,” he said, in a cold, stern tone. ^^As 
you have made your choice, you must abide by it. 
You will go to Pine Clumps one week from to-day.” 


CHAPTER VIIL 


IN THE ARBOH ON THE HILL-SIDE. 

Now, about midway to the top of the hill was a pleasant 
arbor, made by the Lord of the hill for the refreshment of 
weary travelers. Thither, therefore, Christian got, where also 


he sat down to rest him, 


Thus pleasing himself 


awhile, he at last fell into a slumber.^^ — Pilgrim^ s Progress. 

HE course which Mr. Hamilton had decided 



to take with Margery he firmly adhered to, 
and on the day he had appointed she started with 
Mrs. True for Pine Clumps. 

It was early in the morning of a lovely April 
day. The air was full of spring’s delicious fra- 
grance, and the world was full of sights and sounds 
that told that the winter was over and gone, and 
that the time of the singing of birds ” had once 
more come. Little of all this did Margery see or 
hear. To know that she was separated from her 
parents, that they had parted from her with cold 
displeasure, and that the ocean was soon to roll 
between them and herself, seemed to Margery that 
morning more than she could bear. Head and 
heart alike were aching, and^ with a feeling of 


( 154 ) 


IN THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE. 


155 


utter indifference as to where she was going or 
what might happen to her, she followed Mrs. True 
into the car, and took the seat she selected for her. 

Her father had told her she was going out of 
the world, and it was soon evident that only a 
very small part of the world was going in her 
direction that morning. 

Her fellow-passengers were two or three school- 
boys, with what seemed to be an inexhaustible 
supply of peanuts, a young woman, who was 
quickly absorbed in the columns of a weekly 
story-paper, and a few men, who discussed politics 
and agriculture, until their farms — in theory, at 
least, — were all well-tilled, and all the trouble- 
some government problems in a fair way — if their 
judgment were only followed — to be wisely settled. 
There was but one other, a gentleman, whose book, 
if one could judge from his face, seemed to give 
him much pleasure, and who, when not reading, 
still looked as if he had only noble thoughts for 
company.’^ Interested in his book, he had not 
noticed Margery when she first entered the car. 
A little later, when, for an instant, he caught 
sight of her face, he half arose, as if inclined to 
claim her acquaintance; but, after a moments 
hesitation, he apparently decided that he was mis- 
taken in thinking he knew her, and quietly re- 
sumed his seat and his book. 

More than once after that, however, he glanced 


156 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


with curious interest at the corner where Margery 
was sitting, half-hidden by good Mrs. True ; but 
her face was turned from him, and if he found it 
difficult to throw aside his suspicions, he found it 
equally difficult to verify them. 

Slowly and sadly for Margery the hours went 
by, while the train rushed on through a monot- 
onous, uninteresting country, bearing her still 
farther and farther away from her home and 
friends, and increasing with every jolt the blinding 
pain in her head. 

Oh, dear me. Miss Margery Mrs. True ex- 
claimed, as suddenly, with a low groan, Margery 
turned her white face towards her. Oh, dear me ! 
Are you going to faint 

The next moment Mrs. True found herself 
pleasantly dispossessed of her portion of the seat, 
and a pillow of soft shawls was quickly impro- 
vised, and Margery’s aching head laid comfortably 
upon it. Kind, skillful hands ministered to the 
half-conscious girl then. A bottle of ammonia 
was produced from somewhere, and with a few 
strong whiffs of that, a faint color returned to 
Margery’s pallid cheeks, and, with eyes full of a 
surprised, half-doubtful recognition, she looked 
at her strange friend. 

Are you better ?” he asked, with a smile that 
she at once remembered. 

Oh, Mr. MacMillan ! ” she exclaimed ; but 


IN THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE. 157 


then her voice was choked with hysterical sobs, 
and more words were impossible. 

Apparently Mr. MacMillan did not need more. 
With a grave, kind face, he waited and watched, 
doing little things for her comfort and relieving 
Mrs. True of all care ; but he asked no questions, 
until presently Margery was able to look up and 
speak again. 

Thank you !’’ she said, as she gently stopped 
the palm-leaf with which he was fanning her ; I 
do not need it now. Oh, Mr. MacMillan, what a 
surprise it is to see you here to-day 

It is a very pleasant surprise to me,^^ he 
smilingly answered. May I ask how far you 
are going V’ 

I don’t know how far,” Margery said ; but 
we are going to a place called Pine Clumps.** 

Pine Clumps,” Mr. MacMillan repeated ; 
^^then we are truly fellow-travelers, for I am go- 
ing there, too.” 

It is almost out of the world, isn’t it ?” Mar- 
gery asked, in a doleful voice. 

Hardly, I think,” he said, cheerfully ; ^^for we 
are both still in the world, and both, it seems, go- 
ing there. Have you never been there, Miss 
Margery ?” 

^^No,” Margery answered. And then, with a 
sudden burst of feeling, she exclaimed, ^^And I 
wish I wasn’t going there now.” 

14 


158 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


It was plain that there was some serious reason 
for Margery^s being where she was, when it was 
clearly so much against her inclinations. But, 
however curious he might feel, Mr. MacMillan 
made no efibrt to learn that reason. 

Margery^s head still ached ; she was not fit for 
much conversation, and, beyond an occasional 
pleasant word, Mr. IVIacMillan considerately left 
her to the quiet she so much needed. 

As the day advanced, the beautiful morning 
sky grew dark and threatening. Masses of sombre 
clouds shut out the sunshine, and the wind began 
to sob and sigh in the strange, peculiar way that 
so often precedes a shower. Soon great drops of 
rain came beating against the sides and windows 
of the car, and then came a deep, long rumble, as 
of distant thunder, followed quickly by a sharp 
flash of lightning. 

thunder-shower,^^ Mrs. True observed, more 
to herself than her companions. The spring is 
really here at last.^^ 

All her life Margery had suffered from a nerv- 
ous dread of thunder-showers ; and now, in her 
weak state, the thought of one fairly terrified her. 

Oh,^^ she moaned, helplessly, as she heard Mrs. 
True's remark, ^^are we going to have a thunder- 
shower ? Oh, how can I bear it 

^^Can you not bear all that your heavenly 
Father sends Mr. MacMillan asked, gently. 


m THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE. 


159 


will suffer nothing really to harm you, Miss 
Margery. This rain-fall will only sweeten the 
air, and it will soon be over. See ! the clouds are 
already growing brighter 

Margery could not speak, but with closed eyes 
she leaned against her pillow, trying, in a spirit 
of humble trust, to leave herself, with all her 
weaknesses, in his hands who would suffer no 
evil to befall her. On, through the storm and 
gloom, they journeyed for awhile; but the shower, 
as Mr. MacMillan had predicted, did not last 
long. Soon the dark clouds began to break, and 
through their rifts bits of tender, blue sky peered 
shyly forth ; the rain-drops became wonderful 
prisms, all aglow with color ; and presently, in the 
tremulous beauty of smiles that shone through 
tears, the sunshine was glistening everywhere. 
The storm was over, and so also was their journey. 

^^The next station will be the one for Pine 
Clumps,^^ the conductor said, as he took their 
tickets, and in a bustle of excitement Mrs. True 
began to collect shawl-straps and packages. 

I suppose,’^ she said, a little doubtfully, as 
they left the car, I suppose we will find a con- 
veyance of some kind waiting for us here. Miss 
Margery 

Father said Mr. Smith would meet us,’^ Mar- 
gery answered, as she glanced with anxious eyes 
about her. 


160 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD: 


The train had left them apparently in the midst 
of a forest. There was not a dwelling-house in 
sight. Nothing that spoke of human life was to 
be seen, except the little station-house into which 
Mr. MacMillan thoughtfully led them. 

Come in here/^ he said ; it is too damp to 
stand on the platform. And now tell me, if you 
please, Miss Margery, where you are going.’^ 

To a farm-house belonging to a Mr. Smith,’^ 
Margery briefly explained. 

He’s here, I think,” Mrs. True, who had been 
looking out of the opposite door, just then re- 
ported. There are two conveyances waiting a 
little back under the trees, — I suppose they didn’t 
dare to come nearer for fear of frightening their 
horses, — one is a handsome carriage. Miss Mar- 
gery, and the other an old, clumsy box-wagon 
without springs, or even cushions on the seats. 
Now, which do you suppose,” — and Mrs. True’s 
voice plainly expressed her anxiety, — which do 
you suppose is meant for us ?” 

I will ascertain,” Mr. MacMillan said, promptly. 
And as they watched him Margery and Mrs. True 
saw him go to the man in the box-wagon, and 
after a few words with him, turn to the coachman 
of the handsome carriage. Only a word or two 
there, and then the coachman turned his horses to- 
wards the platform that surrounded the little station- 
house, and Mr. MacMillan returned to Margery. 


IN THE AEBOR ON THE HILL SIDE. 


161 


“This is your carriage/^ he said, pleasantly. 
“You will have no more trouble and will soon be 
safe at Mr. Smith’s.^^ 

“And you, Mr. MacMillan/’ Margery ventured 
to say, “ how are you going ?” 

“In the opposite direction in the wagon,” he 
said, with a smile. “ Good-by, Miss Margery,” 
he continued in a minute, after Mrs. True and 
Margery were comfortably seated in the carriage. 
“ I am very sorry ^ good-by ’ must follow ^ how do 
you do?’ so speedily, but I fear it cannot be 
avoided.” 

Margery turned a very sober face towards him. 
“Won’t we see you again?” she asked. “Don’t 
you remain in Pine Clumps ?” 

“ Only for a couple of hours to-day, I regret to 
say,” he answered. “ Business for a friend called 
me here, and that business requires me to return 
to the city by the afternoon train. But you — do 
you stay here long, Miss Margery ?” 

“ I believe so,” she said, soberly. “ I have come 
for a long time, I think.” 

Mr. MacMillan looked for a moment as if he 
would like to ask an explanation of her evident 
trouble, but he checked himself. 

“ I must not detain you,” he said, regretfully, 
“ nor ” — with a smile — “ allow you to detain me, 
for my business requires haste. Good-by once 
more, Miss Margery.” And then, as he bent to 


162 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


arrange the lap-robe, he added, in a lower tone. 
Do you see how bright the sunshine is now ? 
The clouds have all been swept away: they are 
rarely suffered to surround God’s children long.” 
And with a smile and bow, Mr. MacMillan went 
off to his box-wagon, the coachman started his 
horses, and a quick ride of half an hour brought 
Margery to her new home in Pine Clumps. 

She w^as too weary to pay much attention to her 
strange surroundings that day; but the next morn- 
ing she was better, and then, with curious eyes, 
she looked about her. It was a plain, weather- 
beaten, old farm-house, as her father had told her. 
It was perfectly comfortable, — for Mr. Hamilton 
would never have sent his daughter where she 
would want any real comfort, — ^but it was very 
plainly furnished, and evidently belonged to thrifty, 
hard-working people, who believed with all their 
hearts in neatness, but who had never allowed the 
beautiful to enter either their home or lives. 
There was nothing in the house to attract her, and 
with a sigh Margery opened the front door and 
stepped out on the old stone that served for a 
door-step. 

What a wonderful world she suddenly found 
herself in ! The eastern sky was still pink with 
the last lingering touches of the sunrise; the clear, 
soft air was full of sweet sea scents ; a colony of 
birds, that seemed to have returned that very 


IN THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE, 


163 


morning from some sunny southern land, were 
twittering all about her like a company of gossips, 
all eager to tell the first bit of news ; a ploughman 
was already at work in a field near the house, and 
a brood of young chickens was straying about 
under the safe guidance of a mother hen, whose 
constant calls told how anxious and watchful she 
was. A short distance from the house Margery 
saw with delight a grove of magnificent, grand 
old oaks, whose leaves were but just unfolding, 
and looked at present like little more than soft 
clusters of tiny red tassels, while, nearer the house, 
an orchard of old apple-trees promised both shade 
and fruit for the fast-approaching summer days. 

Pleasant as were all these hints and promises of 
spring, Margery scarcely noticed them ; for before 
her, so near that a few steps would take her to its 
shore, spread the waters of a beautiful bay, as 
blue, that morning, as if a part of the lovely April 
sky had fallen upon it, and as peaceful as if no 
stormy wind had ever swept its surface. With 
just the faintest, tiniest murmur, it broke upon 
the pebbly shore, while far across, beyond its wide 
expanse, Margery could see the low banks that 
bordered the Atlantic beach and hear the solemn 
surge of the restless waters and catch the gleam of 
the white-capped waves as they rolled ceaselessly 
landward. And over all was the indescribable fresh- 
ness and sweetness of that early spring morning. 


164 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Margery stood and watched the wonderful scene 
a long time ; and then, cheered and strengthened 
by it, obeyed Mrs. True’s summons and went in 
to breakfast. 

As soon as breakfast was over, however, she 
went out again, this time with Mrs. True, and 
they soon found their way to the barn, where Mr. 
Smith was busy with his horses. 

^^You have a very comfortable carriage, Mr. 
Smith,” Mrs. True said ; while at the same time 
she was obliged to own to herself that nothing her 
eyes could see gave her tongue any warrant for 
making that assertion. 

^^Kerridge, ma’am,” Mr. Smith repeated ; waal, 
ma’am, if you say so, I ain’t goin’ to deny it ; but 
I must say I dunno where you see it.” 

Why, I mean the carriage that brought us here 
yesterday ; T thought it was yours.” 

Waal,” Mr. Smith slowly observed, thoughts 
are strange things, ma’am, an’ it’s surprisin’ how 
mighty easy it is for ’em to be mistaken. That 
weren’t no kerridge of mine. I don’t invest in 
kerridges. I think the savings-bank the best place 
for hard-earned money like mine.” 

How did Mr. MacMillan get it for us, then ?” 
Margery asked, in a puzzled voice. 

^^That was easy enough,” Mr. Smith explained, 
as he took down some old harness and proceeded 
to examine it. ‘‘ That air kerridge came from a 


m THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE, 


165 


handsome place not fur from here that belongs to 
a city gentleman. It was waiting for that Mr. 
MacMillan, and so he comes and asks me if I 
wouldn’t exchange passengers, as the kerridge 
would be more comfortable for you. ’Twas six of 
one an’ half-dozen of ’tother to me, I told him, only 
that his way was a leetle the longest. But he 
made that all right. Mighty nice kind of a man he 
is, I reckon.” And, having delivered that opinion, 
Mr. Smith went off to his day’s work, and left 
Margery and Mrs. True to explore his premises 
by themselves. With the result of that explora- 
tion Margery at first was well satisfied. Pine 
Clumps might be out of the world, but it was 
just as surely a beautiful world of itself; and 
Margery felt that she could rest there, and drop 
all her burdens, and cease from all her struggles. 
And in Pine Clumps, as in every other place, she 
could grow heavenward and Christ-like, if she 
would. Would she really will to do so? 

Days and weeks went slowly and uneventfully 
by. Her parents sailed and crossed the ocean in 
safety. She met with no opposition now to keep 
her watchful, and no great temptations assailed 
her to make her prayerful. 

She had come to one of life’s quiet places, where 
nothing seemed to happen, and where she found 
as little apparently to help as to hinder her in her 
Christian course. And now what did Margery do ? 


166 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


All! her experience was much like Christianas 
in the arbor on the hill : much like our own, 
perhaps, in times when we have been free from 
trouble and had little to fear. 

She sat down to rest, and soon, forgetting to 
watch, she fell asleep. 

Her Bible slowly lost its interest. So many 
chapters a day, perhaps, were read from a sense of 
duty; but she did not linger over the words nor 
search for the precious truths that were hidden in 
them. 

Prayer by degrees became a mere form, — the 
same words repeated night and morning, with 
little of earnestness, little of real heart asking in 
them. 

She was lonely and sad ; everything around her 
lost its interest, and daily she grew more home- 
sick and more ready — though she did not know 
it — to yield to her parents^ wishes. 

One lovely May morning, as she stood on the 
door-step, Mr. Smith returned from the post-office 
and handed Margery a letter from her father. 
Eagerly she opened and read it, and then, with her 
face bright with excitement rushed up-stairs to 
the room where Mrs. True was quietly sewing. 

‘^Oh, Mrs. True,’^ she said, ^^come quick and 
help me pack. Father has sent for me to join 
them, and I am going ; so we must hurry and get 
ready.’^ 


IN THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE. 


167 


^^But you cannot go to-day, Miss Margery/' 
Mrs. True gently suggested. 

^^Yes, I can — to the city, at least. To-day is 
Wednesday ; the next steamer, father writes, will 
sail Saturday, and a friend of his is going out, 
and will take care of me. Come, Mrs. True, do 
help me, for we have no time to waste.’^ 

In her usual calm, quiet manner, good Mrs. 
True arose and methodically folded her work. 

Miss Margery,’^ she said while doing so, I 
will do all I can to help, and I shall be very glad 
to have you join your parents if — it is really 
best you should.^^ 

^^Best! of course it is best,’^ Margery said, hur- 
riedly. Isn’t it always best for a child to be 
with its parents ?” 

Mrs. True slowly shook her head. ^^Not 
always. Miss Margery. It may sound hard, but 
it is true, I have seen many a child who was best 
off when away from its parents. But this is sure. 
Miss Margery — it is always best for a Christian to 
keep close to Christ.” 

Margery stopped in the very act of folding a 
dress, but her purpose was not changed. Well, 
can’t I do that there as well as here?” she asked, 
impatiently. 

Yes — if you are strong enough. But when we 
pray ^ead us not into temptation’ we must be 
careful, dearie, how we willfully walk into it. I 


168 


ALONG TEE OLD ROAD. 


do not want to grieve you, Miss Margery, but have 
you considered and prayed over this matter as you 
ought? Will Mr. Hamilton let you go your own 
way now instead of requiring you to do his? Are 
there no conditions attached to your going ?^^ 

Margery dropped her dress and sat wearily 
down on the floor. Yes, she could not deny it, 
there were conditions. 

Even while urging her to come to him, her 
father had plainly written, Renounce your ex- 
treme, unreasonable notions and yield your wdll 
to mine.’’ And Margery well knew that her 
father’s will for her would not include the doing 
of Christ’s will. 

Oh, dear, dear,” she sobbed, what shall I 
do?” 

^^Do nothing more to-day,” Mrs. True wisely 
counseled. Take time to think and pray about 
it. Miss Margery.” 

Sorrowfully Margery arose and took her hat 
and went out into the still, sweet beauty of the 
warm, summer-like day. Off among the old oaks, 
that now were one beautiful mass of delicate, 
tender green, she wandered, and, throwing herself 
down beside an old stump, she gave vent to all 
the bitterness in her heart. For a long time she 
lay there in the shelter of the protecting trees, 
struggling wdtli her self-will and disappointment ; 
but she gre\Y calm at last. 


IN THE ARBOR ON THE HILL SIDE, 


169 


A firm, qui(ik step on the leaf-streivn ground 
disturbed her presently, and she sprang up just as 
a familiar voice said, — 

Good afternoon. Miss Margery. I hope I am 
not intruding. Mrs. True told me I would find 
you here/^ 

Margery’s sad, tear-stained face grew bright 
with pleasure. 

^^Mr. MacMillan,” she exclaimed, in a voice 
whose tone alone must have removed all that gen- 
tleman’s fears of being considered an intruder, 
am very glad to see you ; but how did you ever 
find me in these woods?” 

am something like an Indian for following 
a trail, especially if it is a pleasant one,” Mr. Mac- 
Millan smilingly answered. ^^How do you do. 
Miss Margery ?” 

Thank you, I am very well,” Margery said, 
indifferently, as if her health did not just then 
seem to her a matter of much consequence. 

am glad to hear it ; left to myself, I might 
possibly have decided differently,” Mr. MacMil- 
lan said, kindly. 

Margery made no reply, and in a moment he 
asked, ^^How do you like Pine Clumps, Miss 
Margery? Does it improve upon acquaintance?” 

I have not cultivated its acquaintance,” Mar- 
gery said, in a sober voice. 

^^Are you sure you have not been making a mis- 


170 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


take, then?’^ Mr. MacMillan gently questioned. 

quiet, country place like this often seems to 
me like a lovely character — the more you know of 
it, the more you will want to know. I only came 
down to the place last night,^^ he quietly proceeded 
to explain, and this morning, as soon as I could 
dispatch my business, I gave myself the pleasure 
of coming here, though I quite expected to be 
obliged to go away singing the old song, — 

‘‘ * I only know she came and went/ 

No,^^ Margery said, in the same sober tone in 
which she had spoken before ; I am still here.^^ 
self-evident fact that I cannot at this mo- 
ment regret, Mr. MacMillan said, pleasantly; 
^‘but I hope you are enjoying your stay here.^^ 

No ; I do not think I am enjoying it at 

all.^^ 

As Margery spoke, Mr. MacMillan watched 
her with kind but intent eyes, while the expression 
of his face seemed to say that he had fully de- 
cided to do or know something. But if his next 
question was meant to be a leading one, it was 
asked with great apparent carelessness. 

Then why do you remain here. Miss Mar- 
gery ? Is it for health^s or conscience’s sake ?” 

Margery did not look at him. Slowly, as if 
she were trying to answer that question for her- 
self, she said, — 


/iV THE ARBOR OH THE HILLSIDE, 


171 


I thought once it was for conscience's sake, 
but now — I am not sure/^ 

Mr. MacMillan was silent a moment ; then he 
said, — 

Will you not give me the privilege of a friend. 
Miss Margery, and tell me what causes that pain- 
ful doubt and uncertainty 

Margery did not answer, and, after a little 
thoughtful consideration of her face, Mr. Mac- 
Millan said again, When I saw you last Christ- 
mas, Miss Margery, you had just come — do you 
remember? — to the little spring at the foot of 
hill Difficulty. May I ask where you are now?^^ 
don’t know,” Margery said, with a heavy 
sigh. ^^It seems as if the whole way were one 
long hill of difficulty.” 

^^What makes it so difficult?” If the question 
was very direct, it was also very kind, and Mar- 
gery could not resist the voice that seemed at 
once to demand and plead for an answer, and in a 
few simple, truthful words she told the cause of 
her coming to Pine Clumps. 

^^Do you think I did wrong, Mr. MacMillan?” 
she asked, humbly, as she finished her story. 

Wrong to obey your Bible and honor your 
Saviour?” he said, with emphasis : ^^No.” 

^^But, then,” Margery said, earnestly, ^^you 
don’t know all yet, Mr. MacMillan. Do Chris- 
tians ever decide on a right course, and then, when 


172 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


they are fairly started on it, begin to lose heart 
and hope and interest^ and feel that it would have 
been just as well if they had not gone quite so 
far? .Because/^ she truthfully confessed, have 
been feeling so, and this morning I was tempted 
to give everything up and go out to father/^ 

Ah ! I know now where you are,’^ Mr. Mac- 
Millan said, in a voice that seemed touched with 
some deep feeling ; you have come to the arbor 
on the hill. Miss Margery, and you have done 
more than rest there. Like Christian, you have 
been sleeping there.^^ 

I am afraid I have,^^ Margery sadly acknowl- 
edged; but you don’t know how hard it was to 
keep awake.” 

Don’t I ?” was the quick response. It is only 
from my own experience I can understand yours. 
Miss Margery. You are not the only slumberer. 
Sometimes it seems to me that most of the Christians 
I meet are still sleeping in that arbor on the hill- 
side.” 

How can they — for a long time — so many of 
them ?” Margery slowly asked. 

Easily ! There is little need of narcotics to lull 
them to that rest. They have no fear of danger 
to keep them alert and on their guard. They are 
engrossed with worldly cares and pleasures ; soon 
they cease to feel their want of spiritual blessings. 
They begin to rest; before long they fall asleep. 


IK THE ARBOR ON THE HILL SIDE. 


173 


and in the end — too often — their experience is the 
same as Christian’s, when — as Bunyan says — in 
his sleep his roll fell out of his hand.” 

But he found it again.” 

Yes; but not without pain and tears, and not 
without treading ^ those steps thrice over which 
he needed not to have trod but once.’ ” 

But,” Margery timidly asked, how can we 
help sleeping sometimes, Mr. MacMillan ?” 

I know of but one way,” he gravely answered. 

By following the direction of the old hymn — 

* Watch, for thou thy guard must keep, 

Pray, for God must speed thy way, 

Narrow is the road and steep. 

Therefore, Christian, watch and pray.* ** 

Sometimes,” Margery said, in a thoughtful 
voice, sometimes, Mr. MacMillan, there doesn’t 
seem much to watch against, nor even much to 
pray for. Things seem to stop happening, and 
then I think we grow discouraged. I believe,” 
she added, in a low, half-frightened tone, 
believe I have felt sometimes, lately, as if God 
must have forgotten me, or else he would not leave 
me so lonely here.” 

understand,” Mr. MacMillan kindly an- 
swered. Miss Margery, I fear there are few Chris- 
tians who have not at some time in their lives felt 
much as you describe. But the cause is to be 
found in their own want of faith, not in God’s 
15 * 


174 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


lack of love. Do you remember Bunyaii^s story 
of Little-faith ? I have often wondered why the 
robbers did not attack him here, in this arbor on 
the hill, instead of farther on. They were just the 
thieves to attack a sleeping or half-awake pilgrim. 

Who were they ? I forget,^^ Margery asked. 

The robbers ? Two of them were Faint-heart 
and Distrust. They did not take from him all he 
had : the place where he kept his jewels they never 
ransacked, but they ‘ got most of his spending- 
money.^ 

Margery turned a very earnest, wishful face 
towards Mr. MacMillan. 

I am afraid I do not quite understand it,’’ she 
said, frankly. ‘^Please tell me what the money 
was.” 

You understand the meaning of the jewels ? — 
his unbroken belief in his Saviour s atonement for 
his sins. Little-faith though he was, he kept that 
priceless treasure safe. But his spending-money — 
his daily hope, and joy, and comfort in God’s sure 
love and tender guidance — Faint-heart and Dis- 
trust could not attack him — as they cannot us — 
without grasping that. And as the sad conse- 
quence, he went — as Bunyan quaintly says — ^ hun- 
gry the most part of the rest of the way.’” 

I did not understand that story when I read 
it,” Margery confessed ; but I shall never forget 
it now.” 


IN THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE, 175 


It is a good story to remember/^ Mr. MacMil- 
lan answered, and it is also good, Miss Margery, 
for us to remember Bunyan^s moral, — ^ When, 
therefore, we hear that such robberies are done 
on the King’s highway, two things become 
us to do : First, to go out harnessed, and to be 
sure to take a shield with us ; and, second, it is 
good also that we desire of the king a convoy, yea, 
that he will go with us himself.’ And if he is with 
us. Miss Margery, none can set on us to do us harm.” 

Sometimes,” Margery said, in a few minutes, 
breaking the pleasant silence that had followed 
Mr. MacMillan’s last words, sometimes I have 
thought that perhaps it would have been better if 
I had complied with my parents’ wishes. Couldn’t 
I have pleased them and lived as they wished, 
and yet have been a Christian in heart ?” 

^^You would soon have ceased to be a Chris- 
tian in heart, I fear,” was the kind but grave 
answer. It is that half-following of Christ that 
makes the Christian life such a struggle ; and the 
poor, human heart that thinks it can serve the 
world and still be true to Christ, will soon, like 
the man with the muck-rake that the pilgrims 
saw in the interpreter’s house, grow indifferent to 
the proffered crown, and find itself able to ^ look 
no way but downwards.’ ” 

There is one thing more that troubles me,” 
Margery confessed soon. Mr. MacMillan, you 


176 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


know the things my friends wanted me to do ? A 
great many people do those very things every day, 
without the slightest suspicion or fear that they 
are doing wrong. And now, please tell me if 
Christ really does disapprove of such actions? 
Why are there not in our Bibles positive com- 
mands about them 

Oh, you are asking the old question so many 
have stumbled over,’^ Mr. MacMillan quietly an- 
swered. Miss Margery, we have nothing to do 
with ^ the great many other people.^ We are not 
called upon to judge them, or to decide this ques- 
tion for them ; but I do not think it ever long 
troubles any one Avho really wants to honor Christ. 
I think there are commands quite full and broad 
enough to cover all these ^ things.^ Christians 
are to ^ come out from the world and be separate ; ^ 
they are to keep themselves unspotted from the 
world. Can they do this, and yet conform, with- 
out reserve, entirely to the customs of the world ? 
A soldier’s uniform declares, so plainly that none 
can mistake it, to what nation and army he be- 
longs ; and surely it is not too much to ask that, 
with equal clearness, a Christian’s life should declare 
that he belongs to Christ. Christians are Christ’s 
friends ; he trusts his honor to us ; and if we truly 
love him, we will — for his sake — ^abstain from all 
appearance of evil,’ and wherever things seem doubt- 
ful, we will give our Lord the benefit of that doubt.” 


IN THE ARBOR ON THE HILLSIDE. 


177 


I seem fated to be always on the wing, Miss 
Margery, when I meet you,’^ Mr. MacMillan 
said, when, a little later, he stood with Margery by 
her door-step. I am sorry to say good-by now ; 
but I have no choice, as I return to the city to- 
morrow morning. I have, however, I hope, some 
good news for you. I came down to make the 
final arrangements for some warm friends of 
yours — and mine — who are coming the first of 
June to Pine Clumps for the summer. Now are 
you enough of a Yankee to guess who they are 
My friends and yours,^^ Margery repeated ; 
why it m*ist be Miss Kathie for one.’’ 

^‘Yes, Miss Kathie for one. Professor Carter for 
two ; my mother for the third, and fourthly and 
lastly, but not, I trust, leastly, myself.” 

It seemed to Margery as if a great cloud had 
suddenly been rolled away from her sky. 

I cannot believe it. It seems too good to be 
true !” she exclaimed. 

^^Nay, rather say it is just good enough to be 
true. Don’t you know. Miss Margery, that our 
Father loVes to prepare pleasant surprises for his 
children ?” 

And leaving that thought with Margery as his 
farewell word, Mr. MacMillan departed,. 

M 


CHAPTER IX. 


IN THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL, 


But while he was thus bewailing his unhappy miscarriage, 
he lift up his eyes, and behold ! there was a very stately pal- 
ace before him, the name of which was Beautiful, and it stood 
just by the highway side /^ — PilgrirrVs Progress, 



ARGERY’S first act that afternoon, after 


Mr. MacMillan left, was to write her father. 
It was a sorrowful letter and cost her many tears, 
for Margery fully understood now that she could 
not go to her parents, and that in truth they would 
not allow her to go to them, unless she was pre- 
pared to submit to their wishes ; and knowing 
that, her course was plain : she must remain where 
she was. But she did not reach that decision 
without a second painful struggle. And the old 
homesick longing was never stronger than when 
she sealed the letter containing her final answer to 
her father. 

The fact that her friends were coming soon was 
the one bright sunbeam in her sky, but ten long 
days must pass first, and though Margery was out 


( 178 ) 


7.V THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL, 


179 


of the arbor now, she found those ten days very 
sad and weary ones. 

With eager impatience she counted the days to 
the first of June. It came at last. A fair, sun- 
shiny day, as perfect as cloudless skies, fields white 
with daisies, orchards one drifting mass of apple- 
blossom snow, and woods merry with bird-songs 
and fragrant with wild flowers, could make it. 

Mr. Smith had business at the station that morn- 
ing, he told Margery, and would take her to meet 
her friends, and with a light heart she climbed into 
the old box-wagon and started for her drive 
through the sandy but pleasant forest road. They 
had not gone far, however, when a pretty, little 
phaeton approached them, and Mr. Smith rather 
ungraciously observed, — 

Hope that air lady in that kerridge will know 
us next time she sees us, Miss Margery. It’s sar- 
tain she oughter, if starin’ is a good way to get 
knowledge.” 

Just then a merry voice called out, — 

Where are you going, my prettie maid ? ” 

And with a spring, almost before Mr. Smith 
could stop his slow steed, Margery was out of the 
wagon. 

Oh, Miss Kathie, Miss Kathie !” she cried, is it 
really you? Oh, I cannot tell you how glad I am.” 

Never mind; what you cannot tell I will imag- 
ine,” Miss Kathie said, in her own bright way. 


180 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


was just on my way to see you, Margery; so 
jump in beside me, and I will carry you where 
you were going/^ 

You won’t have to carry me very far, then,” 
Margery said, with a happy laugli, as, after a word 
to Mr. Smith, she obeyed Miss Woodward; I was 
only going to meet you.” 

^^So I sagely suspected. Turn your face and let 
me look at you. I want to see whether you are 
most in need of my kisses or scoldings. I have 
been feeling very anxious about you lately, little 
girl, do you know it ?” 

^‘Because I have not written?” Margery asked. 

Partly that, and partly because some one else 
has talked,” Miss Kathie said, with a smile. ^^But 
I think you look pretty well, and now I am here I 
will try to take good care of you — if nobody else 
does. By the way, what do you think of this fine 
plan of ours, of spending the summer here — in 
Pine Clumps?” 

Think of it?” Margery exclaimed, while her 
face glowed with pleasure. Miss Kathie, I believe 
it is one of God’s plans ; I believe he has sent 
you here.” 

believe he has,” Miss Kathie answered, 
gently. ^^It is almost as great a surprise to me as 
to you, Margery, and yet it has all come about very 
naturally — just as God’s plans usually do come to 
pass. I was not well after you left school, and the 


I 


m THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL, 181 

doctor said I must stop teaching. And then uncle 
John — that is Professor Carter, you know — said 
he wanted me for a housekeeper, as auntie is some- 
thing of an invalid. And the next important 
word to be said was the doctor’s decree that we all 
needed a change, and must go somewhere near the 
sea, if not right on the shore; and the morning 
you came here Mr. MacMillan came down to see 
about renting for us a house belonging to one of 
uncle’s friends.” 

^^Mr. MacMillan has been down once since,” 
Margery remarked. 

‘^Yes, to make some final arrangements. And 
yesterday I came down with the servants to get 
everything ready for the family, who are coming 
to-night.” 

Does Professor Carter himself come to-night ?” 

Yes, and his wife and Mrs. MacMillan. For 
you must understand that Mrs. Carter and Mrs. 
MacMillan are sisters. Ours is one of those mixed 
family relationships that are as perplexing as a 
Chinese puzzle to trace out.” 

Are there any children?” 

^^No. At present you will be the child of the 
family, and I hope you like your prospective 
position.” 

Indeed I do,” Margery said with decision. 

In fact. Miss Kathie, I wish I was really a child. 
I don’t like being grown up at all.” 

16 


182 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


^^Wliy not, Margery?’^ 

Because/^ Margery soberly answered, while 
Miss Kathie let her gentle horse walk leisurely 
along the sweet-scented woodland road, because 
one has such a sense of responsibility when once 
grown up. Miss Kathie. We have to decide so 
many questions for ourselves, that life begins to 
seem real and earnest, and so different from the 
pretty play we fancied it was when we were 
children/^ 

^^And yet the child that never outgrows the 
nursery never begins to know the beauty and 
value of the inheritance to which he is born. Mar- 
gery.” 

Margery rather dolefully assented; ^^but 
he never begins to know its trials and burdens 
either.^^ 

Miss Kathie laughed. Shall I scold you?’^ 
she asked, or shall I leave that pleasant duty to 
some of your other friends? Margery, I am 
afraid you have been looking too much on your 
life’s dark side lately, and, my dear, you must not 
do that any longer. There is a dark side to all 
our lives; at least” — and, in spite of herself, Miss 
Kathie’s sweet voice grew a trifle sadder — ^^at 
least, we can usually find a shadow when we look 
for it ; but the dark side — in a Christian’s life — is 
never the Godward side. And, Margery, I must 
say to you, to-day, what I often have to say to 


IN THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL, 


183 


myself : turn your faT?e towards God and you will 
soon cease to see the shadows. Do you know 
where you are going now?^^ Miss Kathie asked 
the next minute, as she turned into a beautiful 
winding road, where the old pines made a pleasant 
twilight, even on that bright, summer day. 

‘‘1 am going with you,’^ Margery said, in a 
voice full of content. 

Very true. You are also going to Wind-love, 
the name of our new home.^^ 

What an odd name, Miss Kathie ! It sets one 
to dreaming of hurricanes at once.’^ 

It is a very appropriate name, though, as I 
think you will own when you have once felt the 
winds that I believe never cease to blow there. 
But they are only health-giving winds, Margery, 
and I do not think you need have any fear of 
them, even in your dreams. Here we are,’^ — and 
Miss Kathie stopped before a beautiful Queen 
Anne cottage, standing quite by itself on a high 
bluff, and commanding a wonderful view of the 
bay and sea and shadowy woods and broad, green 
farming lands that lay around it, — here we are ; 
and now, Margery, you and I will have a pleasant 
visit together, until the ^evening brings all hame.^’^ 
The beautiful day soon passed, and when the 
six o’clock train came in, it found Margery and 
Miss Woodward waiting at the station for their 
friends. Burdened with shawl-straps, books and 


184 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


wraps, the travelers gathered on the platform, 
and for a few moments all was bustle and excite- 
ment. There was a gentleman in Professor Car- 
ter’s party who was introduced to Margery as Mr. 
Trinot, and whose appearance, she saw at once, 
was a great surprise to Miss Woodward ; but 
whether the surprise was a pleasant or sorrowful 
one, Margery could not at first decide. 

We ran across Hugh on Broadway,” Professor 
Carter explained, and I insisted on his coming 
down to spend the Sabbath with us, Kalhie, for I 
felt sure your housekeeping could bear the strain 
of one unexpected guest.” 

Its machinery must be in very poor working 
order if it cannot,” Miss Kathie answered, pleas- 
antly ; but her smile w^as a little tremulous, and 
through all the cheerful homeward ride she was 
very quiet and, as Margery at least fancied, a 
little sad. 

The next day was the Sabbath. The whole 
earth seemed to lie still and to be at rest when, in 
the morning, after an early breakfast, Margery 
took her Bible and went to her favorite seat on 
the old stone door-step. That old door-step was 
beginning to seem to Margery the most homelike 
place about the house ; she had read and studied 
and felt so much while sitting there. The nearest 
church was four miles aw^ay, and since coming to 
Pine Clumps she had never been able to attend it. 


IN THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL, 


185 


She thought of it regretfully that morning, but 
she was too happy to sigh long over any depriva- 
tion, and opening her little Bible, she was soon 
musing over a favorite passage. She was still 
reading when a shadow fell across her book, and 
the next instant Mr, MacMillan said, — 

‘^Good morning. Miss Margery, between that 
book and this sky and water, I do not know that 
you can possibly want anything else/^ 

Margery’s face was as humble as her answer. 

I want a great deal more,” she said, and I 
believe I want, most of all, an understanding mind. 
Some things in the Bible are very hard to under- 
stand, Mr. MacMillan.” 

Yes, some of them. So hard that you never 
will understand them here. Miss Margery. But 
what of that? True faith is humble and does not 
fret against her limitations. She knows that the 
veil must always hang before the Holy of Holies 
in this life, but she knows, too, that God’s revela- 
tions— when they come — will satisfy, and knowing 
that, faith — can wait.” 

Yes,” Margery said, with simple truthfulness^ 
^^and so can I, Mr. MacMillan, for the knowledge 
beyond my reach. It is for Avhat I might have 
that I am hungry. There is a great deal in the 
Bible that we can understand if we study.” 

Granted,” Mr. MacMillan answered, with a 
smile. Study all you can. Miss Margery, but 
16 * 


186 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


with the patience of humility, not with the impa- 
tience of a pride that rebels at every obstacle. 
Begin with what you do understand. Make of 
that a foundation so strong and sure that no 
doubts can shake it, and then, with the best helps 
you can get, go lovingly and prayerfully on. 
Only be sure that in all your Bible study, faith 
stands by you as you turn the pages. And now, 
do you wish to read all the morning or would you 
like to attend church 

Church and Margery looked at him in great 
surprise. The church is four miles away, Mr. 
MacMillan.^^ 

Is the distance your only objection ? If you 
will come with me, I Avill not take you far enough 
to tire you.^^ 

Where will you take me Margery asked, as 
she closed her book. 

This is just the day for an open-air sermon,’^ 
he answered ; but I believe I shall have to take 
you inside the old school-house, and if you will get 
ready. Miss Margery, I will wait for you here.^^ 

^^I won’t keep you waiting long,” Margery 
promised, as she went in quest of her hat and 
gloves. 

Who is to preach, Mr. MacMillan ?” she asked 
on her return ; Mrs. True and Mrs. Smith want 
to know.” 

He smiled as he met her earnest eyes. 


IN THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. 


187 


^MVould you be willing to listen to me?’^ he 
asked, quietly, 

^‘You, Mr. MacMillan.^^ And Margery did 
not need to say more; for if her words were few, 
her voice and face made full amends. 

That morning service in the old school-house 
was very simple and impressive, and at its conclu- 
sion, as Mr. MacMillan was detained by some of 
his hearers, Margery joined her other friends, and 
walked with them along the beautiful, winding 
path that led to Wind-love. 

Where do you feel as if you had been this 
morning, uncle John?^^ Miss Kathie asked of 
Professor Carter, who was walking beside Mr. 
Trinot. 

In the house Beautiful,’^ Professor Carter 
promptly answered. I believe I could not well 
be anywhere else when with Archibald Mac- 
Millan.’^ 

Archibald does seem to have a wonderful 
power over his hearers,” Mr. Trinot, remarked in 
a slightly puzzled tone. I do not know that he 
has any more ability than most other men, but 
there is a remarkable fascination about him. 
What causes it ?” 

If we were really in the house Beautiful at 
this moment,” Professor Carter said, with a smile, 
this is the way your question would be answered, 
Hugh, — ^But that which put such grace and 


188 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


glory into all he did, was, that he did it out of 
pure love to his country/ And by ^ country ^ 
you will please to understand the heaven in which 
Archibald MacMillan believes with all his soul, 
and where he hopes, some day, to meet the King 
whom he now so devotedly serves/^ 

Mr. Trinot thrust the little cane he was carrying 
impatiently down among the pine-needles that 
carpeted the path. 

If there really were any good foundation for 
such a faith, I should not wonder so much at it,^^ 
he said. . But it all seems so visionary, so im- 
probable and impracticable, that it fills me with 
wonder to see such a man as Archibald MacMillan 
endorsing it.^^ 

He is not alone,’^ Miss Kathie quietly re- 
marked. Uncle John believes the same. And 
so’^ — she added, with a slight, firm emphasis — 
‘^do 

Mr. Trinot turned towards her with a quick, 
peculiar look. Yes, I know you do,^^ he said, 
with a little bitterness; ^^you never suffer me to 
forget it. But you might have a little compassion 
on those who cannot believe.^^ Miss Kathie did 
not answer; but Margery saw the old sorrowful 
expression she had seen once or twice before flit 
across her face ; and she saw, too, that Professor 
Carter looked sadly at both his niece and friend 
for an instant, before he said, — 


IN THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. 


189 


“ If you really cannot believe, Hugh, then cer- 
tainly the Bible is unjust in its requirements, for 
it commands ^ men everywhere to believe/ 
But it is not that you cannot, Hugh ; it is simply 
that you will not. You prefer to remain a 
prisoner in Doubting Castle, though you know 
there is ‘ a key ^ that — if you would use it — 
would quickly unlock every bolt and door.^^ 

If I do it from preference,^^ Mr. Trinot said, 
bitterly, ^^it certainly cannot be said that I find 
much pleasure or happiness in my choice. But I 
don’t know as religion makes any difference in 
that respect. Life is full of vexations and annoy- 
ances, turn where you will. Now, show me — if 
you can — one happy man.^^ 

I am one,^^ Professor Carter answered. 

Mr. Trinot turned towards him. Oh, yes,^^ 
he said, sarcastically ; I beg your pardon. I 
ought to have said present company excepted.^^ 
You may look, then, at Archibald Mac Millan.’^ 
^^Do you call him happy? I know that he 
has had more than one bitter disappointment. 
All those long months, spent in attendance on his 
uncle, when he ought to have been completing his 
studies, were certainly a great trial for his patience; 
and here he is now — when he is longing to begin 
his life-work — condemned to lay aside all his 
own wishes, because his uncle insists on going 
abroad again in the autumn and cannot live with- 


190 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


out him. Considering that his uncle’s property is 
all entailed, and that he has nothing to gain by 
his unselfishness, it is — I confess — noble ; but does 
it make him happy? 

Ask Archie, himself, Miss Kathie said ; 
here he comes now/^ 

^^Ask what?^^ Mr. MacMillan said, pleasantly, 
as he came up with his friends. 

^^A very impertinent question, I fear,^^ Mr. 
Trinot answered; ^^but, nevertheless, at Miss 
Kathie’s bidding, I will ask it. We have just 
been speaking of you, Archibald. Professor Car- 
ter says you live in the house Beautiful, — you 
know and share his fondness, I believe, for that 
old allegory, — and I said you had trials like other 
men, and were probably just as unhappy. And 
now will you be kind enough to answer truthfully 
and say what you are 

Mr. MacMillan looked thoughtfully at his 
friend. Why not suppose that I am at least as 
happy as other men, Plugh he asked. Why 
always give the darkest color possible to your 
statements 

Because I believe in stating them truthfully,^^ 
Mr. Trinot answered, shortly. But why don’t 
you answer that question? Are you trying to 
evade it?” 

^^No; I hope not. I have no need to do so. 
You say I have trials. Yes; for my father deals 


m THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. 


191 


with me as with a child. You ask if I am 
happy? Yes; for I have never known — I never 
shall know — a trial in which God has not been 
and will not be able to comfort me.^^ 

^^And so you can rise above all the vexations 
and annoyances that meet you and call yourself 
happy. And I must own you appear so. But I 
would like to know by what alchemy you do it 

We all know ^ Pilgrim’s Progress ’ pretty well/’ 
Mr. MacMillan said, while for a moment his eyes 
glanced smilingly at Margery. ^^Now let me give 
you Christian’s answer when asked, in the house 
Beautiful, ^ Can you remember by what means you 
find your annoyances, at times, as if they were van- 
quished ?’ ^ Yes ; when I think what I saw at the 
cross, that will do it ; and when I look upon my 
broidered coat, that will do it ; also when I look 
into the roll that I carry in my bosom, that will 
do it ; and when my thoughts wax warm about 
whither I am going, that will do it.’ ” 

Mr. Trinot shook his head. If you really do 
believe as you say,” he said in a despondent 
voice, then I suppose you truly do feel so. But 
it is all an inscrutable mystery to me. I cannot 
understand it.” 

Doubting Castle is a dark place. I fear you 
never will understand it until you come forth into 
the sunshine of God’s love,” Mr. MacMillan an- 
swered, in a gentle but serious tone. 




192 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


‘‘ Miss Margery/^ he said, in a moment, do 
you know this little flower and he stooped to 
pick a dainty blossom growing by the road-side. 

‘^It is the arethusa, isn’t it?” Margery asked, 
as she took it in her hand and looked, at it with 
eyes that still seemed to be seeing something far 
beyond it. 

^^Yes. Have you studied botany? The flora 
in these woods is very beautiful, I think ?” 

Is it ? I don’t know,” Margery said, a little 
absently. Then, as she dropped the delicate 
flower, she asked, earnestly, ^^Mr. MacMillan, 
please tell me what is the house Beautiful ?” 

Mr. MacMillan smiled a little. I do not 
know precisely what Bunyan meant by it,” he 
answered, thoughtfully; ‘^but it stood just at the 
top of the hill Difficulty ; and I believe Chris- 
tians are always in it when, after testimony lov- 
ingly and faithfully borne for their Master, they 
come to some glad resting-place where they meet 
with Christian sympathy, and are conscious of 
their Saviour’s love and approval.” 

If only then they could stay in it and never 
go out,” Margery said, with a little sigh. 

With kind, compassionate eyes Mr. MacMillan 
looked at the fair, young face Margery innocently 
turned towards him. He understood, far better 
than she did, the temptations and trials that 
might befall her in the future; and he remem- 


IN THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL. 


193 


bered, too, that if, as some one has said, the house 
Beautiful stood at the summit of the hill DilB- 
culty as a reward for Christianas perseverance in 
overcoming its hardships, it stood also just before 
the descent into the valley of humiliation; and he 
well knew that no human care could spare Mar- 
gery from passing through that valley. He re- 
membered it all, but he only said, — 

When Christiana and Mercy went forth from 
the house Beautiful, Miss Margery, do you re- 
member how Great-heart, armed with his sword, 
with its ^ right Jerusalem blade,’ went before them 
as their guide ?” 

Yes,” Margery answered, soberly. ^^And if 
we could only see Great-heart going before us, it 
would make things seem very much easier — some- 
times.” 

Faith’s sight is sometimes very dim,” Mr. 
MacMillan said, kindly ; but when it is strong 
enough to look through the glass that the pil- 
grims saw on the Delectable Mountains, she can 
always see one stronger and safer than Great- 
heart going before her.” 

^^He may lead us far away from the house 
Beautiful, though,” Margery rather sorrowfully 
suggested. 

I know. But whatever the road may be, his 
promises, like these beautiful flowers,” — and Mr. 
MacMillan stooped to pick another dainty blos- 
17 N 


194 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


som, — brighten every step of the way. Hear 
this one, now, Miss Margery,^^ and as they strolled 
slowly along the sweet, old forest-path, Mr. Mac- 
Millan softly repeated, will feed my flock, 
and I will cause them to lie down, . . . and they 
shall dwell safely in the wilderness, and sleep in 
the woods, . . . and none shall make them 
afraid.^ 


CHAPTER X. 


THE TWO LIONS. 

Now, before he had gone far, he entered into a very narrow 
passage. , . . And looking very narrowly before him as 
he went, he espied two lions in the way.” — Pilgrim's Progress, 

A S, sometimes, after a violent storm, there is a 
season of fine weather, before the clouds 
again return after the rain, so now in Margery^s life 
there came a short time of pure, undisturbed en- 
joyment. 

There was nothing in the present to trouble her, 
and Margery even began to hope that the dis- 
agreement between her parents and herself would 
soon be happily reconciled ; for, in replying to her 
letter, Mr. Hamilton had expressed no anger at 
her not joining them, but had only written that 
the summer months would soon pass, and with 
the beginning of autumn he trusted they would 
once more be altogether in their own home. And 
Margery was in happy ignorance of his words to 
her mother, — 

It is useless to try to pull her our way now, 

( 195 ) 


196 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


when we are three thousand miles from her; but 
when we are once more at home, if she still refuses 
to obey us, I will compel her to do as we wish. 
There are invisible, as well as visible, chains with 
which to force people in the direction you wish 
them to go. And I am by no means sure that 
the invisible chains are not the strongest. 

Margery knew nothing of the chains, either 
visible or invisible, that her parents were forging 
for her; and so, for awhile, the days and weeks 
went by with nothing to mar their peace. 

But a sky without a cloud is rarely seen, and 
a period of unbroken sunshine seldom lasts long. 
And soon again, for Margery, there came a sharp 
reminder that she was in the world, and would not 
be suffered to walk without a conflict along the 
King’s highway.” She was at Wind-love one 
sunny morning, when Mr. MacMillan returned 
from the post-office. 

What will you give me for a letter, Miss Mar- 
gery?” he asked, playfully. 

Perhaps I can tell better after I have read it, 
and know its worth,” Margery said, as she extend- 
ed her hand. 

Prudent Miss Margery ! I do not believe you 
will ever be tempted into unsafe speculations,” 
Mr. MacMillan said, with a smile. ^^Well, you 
shall have your letter gratis. I hope it will give 
you pleasure only.” And handing her the letter. 


THE TWO LIONS, 


197 


Mr. MacMillan sat down to read his own dis- 
patches. 

Margery recognized the writing on her envelope 
at once. It was Laura^s. Since she left school 
she had not written to her, and with a half- wish 
that she had refrained now, Margery broke the 
seal. 

To her surprise it was dated at Quantuck. 

^^Dear Margery it began: 

“ Here we are at dear old Quantuck again, — mamma 
and I, — and we are having the gayest and best time im- 
aginable. Your brother Clifford is here, and my cousin, 
Mr. Stevenson, so you will understand that I do not want 
for attention. We have hops almost every night, and I 
have ‘ lots ’ of pretty new dresses, and I heard yesterday 
that I was voted the belle of Quantuck. Now, isn’t 
that something to be proud of? 

“ I believe I do look prettier than I ever did before, for 
IVe learned a new way of arranging my hair, and I can 
see for myself — ^without making use of other folks’ eyes — 
that it’s ‘ awful ’ becoming ; and when I see you I’ll 
show you how to arrange yours,— that is, if you are not 
too much of a Puritan to give me that pleasure. Truly, 
Margery, if you were only what you used to be, I should 
wish you were here. Clifford and I were talking about 
you last night, and we both agreed that you’d be a sister 
to be proud of, if you were only a little more like the 
rest of the world. But Clifford said he ‘ hadn’t any 
use ’ — that’s slang, of course, but you must own it’s ex- 
pressive — for a psalm-singing sister ;’ and to own the 
truth, Margery, I am quite of his mind. This world is 
a very pleasant place,— at least, I think it is, — and I don’t 
17 * 


198 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


see any sense in forever thinking and talking about an- 
other. When we go to heaven, — I frankly confess I 
am willing to defer that journey as long as possible, — 
why, we will do, I suppose, as they do in heaven. 
But while we are in Kome, — well, of course you know 
that old adage, so I needn’t lengthen my letter by quot- 
ing it, and will only observe in passing, my dear, that I 
think you would be a much more sensible girl if you 
would consider and act upon it a little. And that wise 
observation brings me to the purpose for which I am 
writing this letter. 

We have come to the conclusion — Clifford, cousin 
Rich, (that is Mr. Stevenson, you know ; it’s funny that 
he should be rich in name and rich in purse, too, isn’t 
it?) and last, not least, your humble correspondent — ^that 
we want to see you. It is just a beautiful sail from 
Quantuck to Pine Clumps, they tell us, and so we have 
decided to sail up on Thursday and take dinner with 
you. We will bring our own delicacies, and we will 
have an Arcadian repast somewhere under the trees. 

‘*And now, my dear, I want to beg you as a sister — 
you know I really may be that some day — ^to drown all 
your disagreeable scruples about right and wrong for one 
day, at least, in the bay, and let us have a real gay, live- 
ly time. We are none of us, I hope, very dreadful sin- 
ners ; but don’t, for pity’s sake, insist on our being saints, 
and don’t try to be one yourself ; for this world never 
has cared very much for its saints, and, between our- 
selves, I don’t believe it ever will. 

Clifford has just invited me to take a drive with him, 
so I cannot at present bestow any more of my ^ sweet- 
ness ’ and light upon you. 

Good-by, my dear ; don’t you envy me my good times? 
Your affectionate friend, — if you will only be sensible, — 

“ Laura Stanton.” 


THE TWO LIONS, 


199 


It was with a very sober face that Margery read 
her letter, and then slowly folded it and replaced 
it in its envelope. She remembered — with an in- 
voluntary wish that she could delay its dawning — 
that the next day would be Thursday, and she 
shrank with real dread from the visit that was 
promised her. 

^^What is the matter, Miss Margery Mr. 
MacMillan asked presently, as he looked up from 
his paper and noticed her serious face. I am 
interested in that letter, you know; hasn’t my 
gift proved as pleasant as I hoped ?” 

Pleasant,” Margery said, with a sad little 
smile. I suppose I ought to call it pleasant ; but 
I am afraid I cannot.” 

And what causes the strife between duty and 
inclination now ?” Mr. MacMillan asked, kindly. 

Margery could not trust herself to explain, and 
instead of answering his question, after a few mo- 
ments’ thoughtful study of the blue, beautiful 
water spread before them, she said, — 

Mr. MacMillan, please tell me why, when God 
commands us to be good and do right and ” — and 
Margery^s voice trembled sadly now — honor him, 
he sometimes makes it so hard for us to obey him ? 
I should think he would clear all the obstacles out of 
our path ; but, instead of that, it seems, often, as if 
he really hedged up our way. It is very hard. 
Why does he do so ?” 


200 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Because he loves us/^ Mr. MacMillan gravely 
answered ; and also, Miss Margery, because, in 
this school, in which he is educating us, we can 
only grow strong by brave resistance of wrong, 
only beautiful through patient endurance of 
trouble.'' 

And God loves us just as much when he lets 
trouble come as when he gives us pleasure?" Mar- 
gery rather doubtfully asked. 

^^Just as much; it maybe more," Mr. Mac- 
Millan answered, in a voice that was strangely 
touched and gentle. We love those best. Miss 
Margery, for whose perfection we are most anxious, 
and if our eyes were only clear, as faith's sight is 
always privileged to be, we would see, stamped in 
letters of gold on all our trials and sorrows, this 
one sure reason for them all — this is the will of 
God, even your perfection." 

Margery did not answer those earnest words, 
but they swept her doubts away; and, cheered 
and encouraged, she went home to prepare for her 
visitors. 

The next day was unusually beautiful, even for 
that season, when, if ever, come beautiful days." 
Sunshine and warm, favorable winds combined 
to make the weather all that a sailing-party could 
desire, and Margery felt sure that Clifford and Laura 
would come, as they had promised; and, cheerfully, 
though with a little secret fear, she made all her 


THE TWO LIONS. 


201 


arrangements for their pleasure and comfort. Out 
under the cool shade of the pleasant oaks a table 
was carefully spread, and, when all was done, 
IVEargery looked with satisfaction bn her work, 
and then walked down to the shore. The beautiful 
sail-boat had already touched the white, gravelly 
beach, and in another minute Mrs. Stanton and 
liaura were beside her. 

You see, little Puritan, we have really come,^^ 
Laura said, as she kissed her. Why, Margery, 
how well you look ! What have you been doing 
to get such a beautiful color 

IVe been getting ready for you,^^ Margery an- 
swered, playfully. 

Ah ! Then the color is really an illumination 
in honor of us. Cousin Rich., I hope you are 
satisfied 

^^With what?^^ Mr. Stevenson asked; ^^with 
Miss Margery^s appearance ? I assure you I was 
never anything but satisfied with that.^^ 

There’s a pretty compliment for you, Mar- 
gery,” Laura said, with a careless laugh. 
trust you appreciate it.” 

Margery’s cheeks were certainly illumined now. 

How dare he be so personal !” she thought, indig- 
nantly, and how can Laura be so frivolous ! Oh, 
dear ! if this is the beginning of the day, what will 
its ending be?” But Margery could not answer 
her own question ; and, in a moment, she pleas- 


202 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


antly proposed that they should go up to the 
house. 

Go up to that old house Clifford answered. 
^^What for, Margery? you are not putting on 
your dignity, are you?^^ 

No ; no more than is pretty and becoming, 
Mrs. Stanton said, in a tone and manner that made 
Margery still more uncomfortable. 

What would you have us do at the house, 
Margery Laura asked. Sit around on straight- 
backed chairs and recite the catechism to you 

No,^^ Margery said. I have no wish to hear 
lessons that I know are not well learned.^^ 

There you have got your answer now, Laura,^^ 
Mr. Stevenson said, with a laugh. Miss Mar- 
gery, ^pon my word, you have a beautiful retreat 
here ; but don^t you find it very lonely 

Come up under the oaks,^^ Margery said, as 
she led the way towards the grove. No ; I do 
not find it lonely, Mr. Stevenson ; at least not 
now.^^ 

Why not as much now as ever, Margery 
Clifford asked, curiously, as the little company 
reached the oaks and sat down under their shade. 

Because,^^ Margery rather unwillingly ex- 
plained, have friends who live only a mile 
from here.’^ 

^^Friends,^^ Cliflford echoed, scornfully. ^^What 
friends? I hope you haven’t been making the 


THE TWO LIONS. 


203 


acquaintance of all the ploughmen and blackberry- 
pickers around here, have you 

You would have no reason to feel disgraced if 
I had, Clifford. The people around here are all 
intelligent and respectable.^^ 

^^All sing psalms and go to prayer-meeting, I 
suppose. That is your idea of being respectable, 
isn’t it, Margery ?” 

Stop, Clifford ; you sha’n’t tease her,” Laura 
interposed. Margery, please tell me, who are 
those new friends of yours ?” 

^^Do you remember Professor Carter, Laura, 
and Miss Woodward?” 

Professor Carter. Have you run across him 
again?” Laura asked, in an annoyed tone. ^^And 
Miss Woodward, the teacher at Madame Girard’s, 
I suppose you mean. Well, Margery, I cannot 
congratulate you on your new friends, for I believe 
they have been the cause of all your trouble.” 

^Hf they are the cause, I would like to have 
them in my power for a few minutes ! ” Clifford 
exclaimed. Margery, I cannot, for the life of 
me, imagine what a bright, pretty girl like you 
can find to care for in such long-faced, sanctimoni- 
ous hypocrites, as I presume these so-called friends 
of yours are.” 

Clifford,” Margery said, in a hurt, quick voice, 
you neither know what nor whom you are talk- 
ing about. Please remember that Professor Car- 


204 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


ter and Miss Woodward are among the best and 
truest friends I have/^ 

^^Ah! That’s a compliment to present com- 
pany/’ Clifford scornfully replied. 

Margery’s lips quivered ; there came a painful 
choking in her throat, and the hot tears filled her 
eyes. For a moment she struggled hard for self- 
control, and the silent prayer went up for grace to 
be meek and patient. It was but for a moment : 
even while she prayed the victory came, and, with 
a smile, she looked up and said, pleasantly, — 

Let me give you something better than com- 
pliments, Clifford. What do you say to having 
lunch now? You must be hungry after your long 
sail.” 

Ravenous, Miss Margery,” Mr. Stevenson 
declared. 

Yes, we are hungry, and thirsty too,” Clifford 
added. 

You need not be thirsty long,” Margery said, 
laughingly; ^^we are not quite in the melancholy 
plight of the ancient mariner, ‘ with water, water 
everywhere and not a drop to drink,’ Clifford.” 

“You may keep your water,” was Clifford’s 
cool answer, as he took a little flask, in the shape 
of a book, from his pocket. “See, this is my 
Bible, Margery ; how do you like it?” 

“Clifford,” — and Margery’s face grew pale and 
she looked at her brother with an almost terrified 


THE TWO LIONS, 


205 


expression, — ‘^Clifford, you don’t mean that you 
carry that with you in your pocket?” 

Carry it everywhere. Didn’t I tell you it 
was my Bible? You would not have me forget 
and leave my Bible at home, would you ?” 

Clifford, please don’t talk so. What would 
father say if he saw that?” 

^^You can probably find every word he would 
say in the dictionary,” Clifford coolly replied. 
^^Our father speaks English, you know.” 

But, Clifford, it is wrong, and father would 
be so troubled and displeased.” 

Think so?” Clifford asked, indifferently. 
^^Well, now, see here, Margery, I hardly believe 
he could be more displeased with me than he is 
with you ; and as long as he objects to your going 
in one direction, he cannot very consistently blame 
me for going in the opposite.” And with great 
composure Clifford opened his flask and offered 
it to Mr. Stevenson. 

Margery could say and see no more. She walk- 
ed to her table and stood there for a few seconds 
looking with sorrowful eyes at the beautiful pond- 
lilies with which she had adorned it. Laura 
soon followed her. 

^^Why, Margery,” she said, do believe you 
are crying. What a little goose you are !” 

“ Oh, Laura,” — and Margery turned plead- 
ingly towards her, — ^^you have great power over 
18 


206 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Clifford ; won’t you try to influence him for 
good ?” 

^^Wlien I see anything very objectionable in 
his conduct, perhaps I will/’ Laura coldly an- 
swered. 

Margery made no reply, and in a minute Laura 
said, angrily, Margery, if I only had the strength, 
it would do me good to give you a good shaking. 
You are the most ridiculous girl I ever heard of. 
Here you are, spoiling all our pleasure, and griev- 
ing over Clifford, just as if a flask in a man’s 
pocket was like a death-warrant.” 

am afraid it is more like one than you 
think,’' Margery said, tearfully. ‘^Clifford will 
never become a Christian while he does such 
things.” 

Oh, well, perhaps he thinks one Christian in 
the family quite enough. I am sure I do,” Laura 
said, wdth a curl of her lip, as she turned to 
unpack the large baskets that had just been 
brought up from the boat. 

Margery had no wish to prolong the conversa- 
tion; silently she aided Laura in her preparations, 
and when all was ready she went to find Clifford 
and Mr. Stevenson. 

Come, Clifford,” she said, affectionately, as she 
linked her arm inside her brother’s, ^4unch is 
ready; won’t you and Mr. Stevenson come?” 

Clifford scowled a little, but showed no disposi- 


THE TWO LINES. 


207 


tion to refuse the invitation, and in a few minutes 
the little party was seated around the table. 

^^This is truly like life in Eden/^ Mr. Stevenson 
said, as he helped himself to a sandwich. 

Better not say that,^^ Laura observed, as 
Clifford just then uncorked a bottle of champagne, 
^^or Margery will tell you that they did not drink 
wine in Eden.^^ 

I have no doubt but Miss Margery ^s informa- 
tion would be correct,^^ Mr. Stevenson answered, 
as he deliberately filled his glass, ^^and I am quite 
ready to hear it, as long as she does not ask me to 
act upon it.^^ 

am sure Margery would not be so hard- 
hearted as to ask you to do anything involving 
as great self-denial as that,’^ Mrs. Stanton said, 
with her smooth, light laugh. You do not want 
to ask anything as hard as that would be of him; 
do you, Margery?’’ 

Margery was troubled about Clifford, and tired 
of all the silly, frivolous talk to which she was 
forced to listen. 

^^No, Mrs. Stanton,” she answered quickly, and, 
with an emphasis that told more plainly than 
words how weary and indifferent she was ; I do 
not want to ask anything of him.” 

am certainly flattered,” Mr. Stevenson said, 
with a forced laugh. 

that what you call Christian politeness, 


208 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Margery?’^ Laura asked, in a pretended whisper; 

because if it is, I must say I admire its consider- 
ation for the feelings of others/^ 

beg pardon,’^ Margery said, humbly; ^^if 
I have said anything wrong, I did not mean 
to/' 

^^It is perfectly astonishing, Margery," Clifford 
said, in an angry voice, how many wrong things 
you manage to do, while you are all the while delu- 
ding yourself with the fancy that you are doing 
right. For example, you know you would not be 
here at this moment if you had not positively re- 
fused to obey our father, and that — forsooth — is 
what you call doing right." 

Can’t we find something pleasant to talk 
about?" Margery said, while she made a great 
effort to be calm and pleasant. 

^^Mr. Stevenson, please forgive me if I have 
been rude, and tell me something about what you 
are doing in Quantuck, won't you ?" 

Mr. Stevenson felt and behaved at that mo- 
ment very much like a spoiled and sulky school- 
boy. 

am afraid my description would hardly 
interest you. Miss Hamilton," he said, crossly ; ^^if 
you do not care to ask anything of me, you can 
hardly, I should suppose, care to hear anything 
from me." 

Once, if Mr. Stevenson had presumed to speak 


THE TWO LIONS. 


209 


to Margery in that manner, she would have given 
him the answer he richly deserved; but now she 
was silent; and Laura, as she bestowed on her 
cousin a generous dish of ice-cream, exclaimed, — 
There, Eich. now that you have paid Margery 
in her own coin, do let us have peace. And, Mar- 
gery, now I will tell you why we have come here to- 
day ; we want you to go back with us. You have 
indulged yourself and gone your own way long 
enough, we think ; now we want you to indulge us 
and come our way; will you?’^ 

I cannot,’^ Margery answered. Father placed 
me here.’^ 

That^s all nonsense,^^ Clifford interrupted. 
“Your stay here depends entirely upon yourself. 
If there are conditions, you imposed them on your- 
self. Eenounce those conditions, Margery, and 
you are free to do what you please.’^ 

“ I cannot renounce them, Clifford.’^ 

Clifford frowned fiercely. “Mrs. Stanton,^’ he 
said, “ I wish you could bestow on this idiotic sis- 
ter of mine a few grains of common sensie. She is 
ruining her own happiness and ours, tOo.^^ 

“ I know> and I am very sorry for you, Clifford 
Mrs. Stanton said, in her smooth, bland voice; “but 
common sense is something like the practice of 
medicine : people seldom become noted for either 
without long experience.^^ 

“ Margery,^’ and — like Mrs. Timorous address- 
18* o 


210 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


ing Christiana — Mrs. Stanton turned now to Mar- 
gery, ^^some day, when you have grown sensible, 
and understand the value of all you are now 
throwing away, you will bitterly regret your folly. 
You will never be young again; take my advice, 
my dear, and enjoy your youth while you have it.^^ 
am enjoying it, Mrs. Stanton.’^ 

^^So I should judge from your looks,’’ Laura 
said, scornfully, as she watched Margery’s troubled 
face and tearful eyes. ^^Well, Margery, I suppose 
it is useless to talk ; but you are welcome to your 
enjoyment, if that is the right name for such insan- 
ity as yours.” 

Oh, don’t, don’t talk to me any more,” Mar- 
gery pleaded, in a choking voice. 

Mr. Stevenson pushed back his chair. ^^Come, 
Clifford,” he said, I think we better see about 
going home.” And acting promptly on his own 
suggestion, Mr. Stevenson strolled down to the 
shore, and soon returned to say that the boat was 
ready, and the wind falling, and that the captain 
advised them to start at once. 

^^Well, Margery,” Clifford said when, a little 
later, they all stood on the shore, if you would go 
with us, and do as we wish, I would be a kind, 
good brother to you ; but as long as you persist in 
your present course, you need not expect to receive 
any sympathy from me. I have heard you say 
that you dreaded to be criticised and ridiculed, but 


THE TWO LIONS. 


211 


such ridiculous conduct as yours deserves the ridi- 
cule and criticism of all sensible people, and you 
may be sure it will always have mine/’ And with 
this affectionate assurance, Clifford took his seat, 
the boat pushed off and Margery’s troubled day 
was over. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE porter's directions. 


“ Fear not the lions, for they are chained, and are placed 
there for trial of faith where it is ; and for discovery of those 
that have none ; keep in the midst of the path, and no hurt 
shall come unto thee .’^ — PilgrMs Progress. 



'OR many days after her brother's visit Mar- 


gery felt sad and depressed. Clifford's bitter 
words had destroyed her brightest hopes. She 
did not dare now to think much about the future ; 
but whenever she did, her anticipations were all 
shadowed with a great dread. That Clifford 
W’ould keep his promise, and that he and all her 
friends were fully determined to give her no peace 
until she yielded to their wishes, was a sorrowful 
fact to which Margery could no longer be blind. 

Naturally very sensitive, unkind criticism and 
ridicule pained her like blows. She sobbed her- 
self to sleep many nights while recalling Laura’s 
and Clifford’s unjust reproaches, and when she 
thought of being once more exposed daily to such 
cruel taunts and sneers, her courage failed and her 
trial seemed greater than she could bear. Of all 


( 212 ) 


THE P0RTEH8 DIRECTIONS, 


213 


this trouble and sorrow, however, Margery said 
nothing — except in her prayers. 

All that her kind friends at Wind-love knew, 
was that from the day of her brother’s visit she 
was quieter, and though her smile was sweet as 
ever, it was far from being as bright, and her face, 
when she was alone, was sure soon to grow not 
only serious, but sad, as if the thoughts over which 
she brooded were closely allied to tears. 

What did it mean ? Miss Kathie puzzled over 
that question, and so did others ; but Margery 
did not seem inclined to answer it ; and so the 
beautiful season went by, until the shortening 
days and cool nights of September told that the 
summer already was but a memory of the past, and 
that it was only the shadow of its glory that still 
lingered on the fields and in the woods. 

Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton would soon be at home 
now. Already they had sent directions to . Mrs. 
True about opening their house and preparing for 
their return ; and Margery, while she longed for 
their arrival, felt, at the same time, that it would 
only be the signal for fresh contests between her- 
self and them. 

Life looked very dark to Margery in those days, 
and many, many times the old questions that most 
Christians have at some sad crises had cause to 
ask occurred to her. Why was it such a hard 
thing to do right, such an easy thing to do wrong ? 


214 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Why (lid all the world^s smiles, and gifts, and fa- 
vors seem tx) lure one downward ? Why did none, 
or at best, very few, beckon upward ? Why was it 
that, if she would really follow Christ and honor 
him, she must leave undone much that the world 
approved, and dare to do much that it would cen- 
sure and disapprove ? Oh, why, why, when 
Christ died for the world, should it be made such 
a hard struggle for one of his little ones to live in 
it and be a Christian ? 

Margery was brooding over those questions one 
day, while resting on the old door-step, when, open- 
ing her little Testament, her eyes fell on these words : 

And not only so, but we glory in tribulation also/^ 

Tribulation, — the threshing that separates the 
wheat from the chaff, — was that a thing to glory 
in ? It might be submitted to, as we submit to 
many things that we know are inevitable or 
necessary ; but to exult, to glory in it, oh, what 
glorious, wonderful secret did St. Paul possess, 
that he, in deepest, holiest truth, could say : We 
glory in tribulation 

Still absorbed in that question, she did not 
notice the approach of a carriage nor look up un- 
til a handful of golden-rod dropped down on her 
book and Mr. MacMillan’s voice said, — 

There are lessons to be learned from flowers 
as well as books. Miss Margery, and in devotion 
to the one you must not neglect the other.” 


THE PORTER'S DIRECTIONS. 


215 


Thank you/^ Margery said, gratefully, as she 
gathered up the graceful, golden plumes, and 
looked at him with a smile that, if not quite as 
bright as he would have liked to see, was yet very 
sweet. Thank you, Mr. MacMillan, I do not 
neglect the flowers but I am afraid I cannot find 
the lessons in them I am anxious to learn now.^^ 

What are those very important lessons ? What 
grave problems are you trying to solve now?’’ 
Mr. MacMillan asked, playfully. But then, as he 
came nearer and saw her book, his expression 
changed. 

No,” he said, in a difierent voice, ^^the flowers, 
and all other beautiful things in nature, have their 
place in our education, but their place is never 
before that book. And yet,” he added, as he 
watched Margery’s face, and noticed how pale and 
sad it looked, there are times when rest and play 
are better for us than any study. Miss Margery : 
there are surer remedies than books for an aching 
head.” 

^^How do you know my head is aching?” 
Margery asked, as she slowly closed her boob. 

It does not require much skill to detect it, 
when the signs are as plain as I am sorry to see 
they are now,” he answered, kindly. Come, Miss 
Margery, put away your book, and come with me, 
and hear what the hills have to say to you.” 

The hills ?” Margery repeated, in surprise. 


216 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


^^Tes. I am going to South Haven. You 
have never been there, I think. It is just the 
other side of that low chain of hills we can see 
from Goodtown, and will be only a pleasant drive 
for us this afternoon. Will you go 

If you can wait for me to get ready Mar- 
gery answered, as she glanced down at her light 
dress that was almost too thin for a September 
drive. 

Take your own time, and be sure to take a 
warm wrap,^^ Mr. MacMillan said, pleasantly. 

Mr. MacMillan had only waited a few minutes 
when Margery returned. 

Are we going to Wind-love first she asked, 
as Mr. MacMillan took his seat beside her in the 
light wagon and started his horse. 

No. I was charged to bring you back there 
for tea, but our destination now is the hills.^^ 

One would almost as soon expect to see a giant 
on a dwarfts back as to see hills rising in this low, 
level country,’^ Margery said, as she glanced around 
her, and saw only a long stretch of heavy, sandy 
road, that ran through a plain, thickly timbered 
with a mixed growth of pines and oaks. 

You will see them soon, however,^^ Mr. Mac- 
Millan answered, and like them none the less, I 
think, for coming upon them out of this low, 
monotonous country. I remember the first time 
I saw them ; I could only think of the pleasant. 


THE POETEHS DIRECTIONS, 


217 


unexpected surprises God loves to prepare for his 
children. The change from these dark, lonely 
woods to those sunny, breezy hills was as com- 
plete as the change that comes sometimes in our 
lives, when, from looking mournfully at ourselves 
and seeing only our own imperfections, we look 
suddenly up to heaven and catch a glimpse of the 
white robe that covers all our stains.^^ 

Margery made no answer, for they were on 
the hills now and words seemed of little conse- 
quence. 

^‘The air is doing you good,’^ Mr. MacMillan 
said, in a satisfied voice, after watching her a few 
minutes. I felt sure these old hills would have 
a message for you to-day. Miss Margery.^^ 

Tliere was something very sweet and yet a little 
sad in Margery’s smile as she looked at him. 

I believe they are saying something to me,^’ 
she said ; but I would like my message delivered 
in words. Translate it for me, please.” 

Will this express it ? — ^ As the mountains are 
round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about 
his people from henceforth even for ever.’ ” 

Is he — really ?” Margery questioned, in a low 
voice. 

Do you doubt it ?” 

She hesitated a little before replying. ^^No,” 
she said then ; I believe it is so, Mr. MacMillan, 
but — sometimes — it is hard to feel it.” 

19 


218 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Suppose you tell me what those ^ sometimes ’ 
are/^ Mr. MacMillan gently suggested. 

Margery sighed unconsciously. ^^Why, the 
times when we are in trouble, and feel lonely and 
helpless/^ she said, sadly ; the times when the 
future looks dark, and it almost seems as if we 
were left to fight our battles alone, and we feel 
that it is well-nigh impossible for us to stand firm, 
and live as — if we are Christians — we ought to 
live.^^ 

Margery was unwittingly giving Mr. MacMillan 
an explanation of the sadness that for so many 
days he had regretfully noticed in her. He was 
silent for a moment, but then he said, in a tone at 
once kind and encouraging, — 

^^The promise is sure. Miss Margery, — ^Call 
upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver 
thee.^^^ 

^^Always 

Yes, always. God’s promises mean all that 
they say, and more.” 

But he doesn’t always do it,” Margery said, in 
a hopeless voice. 

Be careful. Miss Margery. When we doubt 
a promise we rarely claim it, and how, then, can it 
be fulfilled for us ? But show me — if you can — 
one instance where God was ever called upon in 
trouble by an obedient, trusting child, and failed 
to keep his word.” 


THE PORTEHS DIRECTIONS, 219 

I cannot/^ Margery said, humbly. But, 
still — it does not look so, Mr. MacMillan. The 
world is full of troubled people, and — God does 
not deliver them.^^ 

Hush Mr. MacMillan said, quickly, as if it 
pained him to hear such words from her lips; 

never say that. Do you think St. Paul, though 
after all his prayers ‘ the thorn in the flesh ^ was 
still left ^ to buffet ^ him, ever felt, for one mo- • 
ment, that God had not delivered him 

Margery said, softly; but, in a moment, 
she added, I do not want to say anything wrong, 
Mr. MacMillan, but I cannot help thinking there 
are those in the world to-day who have ^ thorns in 
the flesh,’ but God does not seem to comfort them 
as he did St. Paul.” 

Do you think they trust him as St. Paul did ? 
Perhaps they fail to do their part. Miss Margery ; 
just ” — and if the words were full of reproof, they 
were likewise full of kindness — just as you are 
failing to do yours now.” 

I cannot help failing,” Margery said, wearily. 

^^Are you sure ? Are you not a little morbid 
now, and, in consequence, disposed to exaggerate 
your short-comings? I think you are ; though I 
am sorry to say you are certainly failing in one 
important duty at this moment, and that is in en- 
joying — as I wish you to — this pleasant ride and 
day.” 


220 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


am enjoying them/^ Margery declared; but 
it was with a smile that looked as if it lived next- 
door to a tear. 

‘^Then what is your trouble? Pardon me, 
Miss Margery, if I question you too closely ; but 
I have seen for some time that you are unhappy, 
and if a friend can help you, will you not let me 
be that friend 

I don^t know as any one can help me,’^ Mar- 
gery said, sadly. We have to live our lives and 
fight our battles alone, don’t we ?” 

I don’t think I have to,” he said, cheerfully. 

Since the promise, ^ Lo ! I am with you always,’ 
was spoken, I do not think any Christian is 
doomed to a lonely life, or to a hopeless, solitary 
struggle with either seen or unseen foes.” 

Margery’s only answer was a sigh, and once 
more Mr. MacMillan asked, — 

^^A^inst what are you fighting now. Miss 
Margery ?” 

She turned to him now and showed him a very 
sorrowful face. It is not so much what I am 
doing now as what I have yet to do,” she said, 
sadly. I feel so helpless about the future. I 
cannot see anything but trouble in store for me, 
and — I — haven’t— courage to endure it.” And 
with this sad confession Margery broke down 
completely. 

Poor child !” The compassionate words came 


THE PORTEHS DIRECTIONS. 221 

involuntarily to Mr. MacMillan’s lips, but the 
next instant he said kindly, but very firmly, — 

Miss Margery, if you give me a friend’s 
privilege, I do not know but the first use I make 
of it will be to scold you. Who has ordered you 
to anticipate the future ? Who requires you to 
have courage to-day to endure the trials and sor- 
rows you may never meet ?” 

But I know I must meet them,” Margery 
insisted. 

Naughty child ; do you really mean to make 
me scold you ?” he said. But then, more gravely, 
he asked : ^^Are they new trials, or only repetitions 
of old ones ?” 

Both,” Margery sobbed. When father comes, 
I know, from his last letter, he expects me to do 
as he wishes ; and when Laura and Clifford were 
here they told me they would have no pity for 
me if I persisted in my present course. And, oh, 
it does hurt me so to be so ridiculed and criticised ; 
it seems as if I could not bear it.” 

If Mr. MacMillan’s gentle horse had been in 
the habit of reflecting over men and events, he 
would have wondered what caused his usually 
kind master to touch him so sharply with the 
whip at that moment, or check him in such a stern 
voice the next. But whatever occasioned Mr. 
MacMillan’s anger, it was quickly controlled. 

Miss Margery,” he said, gently, our best 
19 * 


222 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


earthly friends make sad mistakes sometimes in 
their treatment of us.^‘ But can you not trust your 
lieavenly Father? Can you not believe that he 
Avill make no mistake, and suffer no trial to touch 
you that he knows will not leave a blessing be- 
hind it?’^ 

I do try to feel so,’’ Margery said, humbly ; 
^^but I am so w^eak, and how will I ever live as I 
ought if Clifford ridicules me every day ?” 

Do you remember the lions before the house 
Beautiful ?” Mr. MacMillan asked, in answer to 
Margery’s sad question. 

Yes,” she said. 

They were to Christian much like what criti- 
cism and ridicule are to you. Miss Margery. But 
when you shrink from the lions, you must re- 
member the porter’s directions, and if you obey 
them, you are safe. The lions are chained. There 
is One who is stronger than they. ^ Keep in the 
midst of the way, and no harm can come unto 
you.’” 

^^The midst of the way,” Margery repeated, 
thoughtfully. Don’t you think it hard to keep 
just there, Mr. MacMillan ?” 

Not when we keep our eyes on our guide, and 
obediently follow as he leads us.” 

Margery considered that answer for a few mo- 
ments. ^^Mr. MacMillan,” she asked soon, ^^do 
you think it an easy thing to glory in tribulation?” 


THE PORTEHS DIRECTIONS, 


223 


he answered, gravely ; it is not an easy 

thing/^ 

^‘St. Paul did it/’ Margery said; ‘^and, Mr. 
MacMillan, I have been wondering this afternoon 
how he could. It seems as if he knew some won- 
derful secret that made him so triumphant. And 
I wish’’ — and Margery’s voice was truly wishful — 
I wish I knew it, too.” 

Shall I tell it to you ?” Mr. MacMillan said, 
in a voice that Margery half-fancied was touched 
with a little of that same triumphant joy. One 
little word will tell it all. Miss Margery, and that 
word is — consecration.” 

^^And it means — what?” Margery asked, in a 
half-frightened whisper. 

^^Unquestioning obedience, unconditional self- 
surrender.” 

It means — hard things,” Margery said, in the 
same awed tone in which she had spoken before. 

^^No. Not hard for one who has once tasted 
that the Lord is good ; not hard for one who 
knows and believes the love that God hath toward 
him.” 

But how — how can we do it ?” 

It is a simple thing to do. Will you do it. 
Miss Margery? We give our wills to God, and 
he accepts them. He reveals his will to us, and 
we obey it.” 

And then,” Margery said, in a voice that was 


224 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


thrilled with tender, but glad feeling, and then 
can we, too, glory in tribulation, Mr. MacMillan V 
If God sends it. The consecrated heart prays 
always ^ Thy will be done,^ for it knows that the 
spriug of God’s will is love. And so, when tribu- 
lations come, it can glory even in them, for, though 
they may seem grievous now, it knows they come 
to bless. I sometimes think,” Mr. MacMillan 
thoughtfully continued, that tribulations are like 
the angels, of whom we so often read in the Bible. 
Their mission' to God’s people was almost always 
one of blessing, and still they were always received 
with trembling. Their greeting was always ^fear 
not ; ^ but not until they were gone did those to 
whom they came fully realize the glory and honor 
God had bestowed upon them. God’s angels come 
to us often now in the shape of trials, denials and 
— it may be — tribulations. We shrink from them 
in terror, while all the time — if we would listen — 
our Father’s voice is whispering ^ fear them not,’ 
and our Father’s love is making them the bearers 
of his richest gifts.” 

Margery’s heart was full ; she had no answer 
for Mr. MacMillan’s earnest words, and, in a 
silence that was even pleasanter than speech, they 
rode the remainder of the way to South Haven. 

The homeward ride over the breezy hills, just 
flooded with the sunset light, and through the 
silent woods that glowed and burned with the 


THE F0RTEH8 DIRECTIONS. 


225 


colors of the western sky, was soon accomplished, 
and they returned to Wind-love just as the bell was 
ringing for an early tea. 

Here is a letter for you, Archibald,^’ Professor 
Carter said, as, just after tea, the evening mail was 
brought in, and they all awaited its distribution; 

it is marked ^ in haste, ^ but I hope it is nothing 
serious.’^ 

It is probably from my uncle,’^ Mr. MacMillan 
said, as he received and quietly opened it. 

Whoever it was from, it was soon read, and 
whatever its contents, none could judge of them 
from Mr. MacMillan’s quiet face. But, soon after 
reading it, he arose and left the room, and for a 
long while after they heard his firm, steady step, 
as he paced back and forth along the length of the 
piazza. 

He came in presently, however, with his usual 
pleasant smile. Miss Margery,” he said, you 
stipulated for an early return home ; do you still 
wish to go, or will you spend the night here?” 

^^Here, of course! ” Miss Kathie and Mrs. Carter 
exclaimed, in one breath. But Margery was firm 
in her decision to return home; and, while the 
others were urging her to remain and laughing at 
her positive refusal, Mr. McMillan stood by with- 
out speaking and without, ap} arently, any wish in 
the matter. 

Read this letter, mother, dear, while I am 


226 ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 

gone/’ he said to Mrs. McMillan, as, when Mar- 
gery was ready, he handed her the letter he had so 
recently received, and we will talk about it on 
my return. Now, Miss Margery, I am at your 
service.^^ 

Are you sure your wrap is warm enough ? — 
this September night is rather cool,^^ he asked, 
with thoughtful kindness, as they left the house. 
But on Margery’s assuring him that it was, he 
made no further remark, and they walked for 
some distance., in the beautiful moonlight evening 
in silence. 

Miss Margery,” Mr. MacMillan said, sud- 
denly, I am a dull companion to-night, I fear. 
Say something to brighten me, give me the thought 
that is in your mind now.” 

That thought is not an original one,” Margery 
answered ; but it is better than any of my own 
could be. I was just thinking of Bunyan’s Mr. 
Fearing. You know him,” she added, quaintly. 

Mr. Fearing? Yes, I know him better to- 
night, I think, than I ever did before. But what 
about him. Miss Margery? Tell me what you 
were thinking, if you please.” 

It is not much,” Margery said, modestly; ^^but 
something reminded me of that story, — I think it 
one of the most beautiful in ^Pilgrim’s Progress,’ 
don’t you, — and then I remembered Great-heart’s 
words : ^ My Master, you must know, is very ten- 


THE PORTERS DIRECTIONS. 


227 


der^ especially to them that are afraid/ And that 
thought made, me think of how often we are 
afraid — afraid to do and bear God^s will — when, 
after all, that will must be just the very sweetest 
and best thing for us, must it not?^^ And, as if for 
confirmation of her faith, Margery looked ques- 
tioningly at Mr. MacMillan. 

His answer did not come at once, but soon he 
said : Thank you. Miss Margery, you have given 
me just the word I needed. You have reminded 
me that when the Master is so tender the servant 
may well trust to his guidance, ahd believe — and 
Mr. MacMillan’s voice dropped as if he were 
speaking for himself — ^Ghat, though his Lord 
may lead him by roundabout ways, he will not 
lead him wrong.”' 

Something in that speech touched and puzzled 
Margery, but she did not attempt to reply to it; 
and only the cry of the katydid broke the silence 
of the sweet, still night, until Mr. MacMillan 
spoke again. 

^^Miss Margery,” he said, ^^your parents will 
be at home soon, and you will return to them at 
once ; will you not ?” 

Yes,” Margery rather soberly answered. 

He looked down at her with a kind and 
thoughtful interest that well understood her fears 
and truly sympathized with them. 

^^They love you very dearly,” he said, gently. 


228 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


and in their joy at having you with them again, 
I cannot think that they will continue to oppose 
you. But do your part faithfully, Miss Margery, 
and then, some day, when we meet again, I know 
you will be able to tell me that God has more than 
done his.^^ 

When we meet again Margery repeated, in 
great surprise ; why, won’t that be to-morrow, 
Mr. McMillan T 

^^No; I fear not,” he slowly answered. ^^Many 
long to-morrows may pass before we meet again. 
Miss Margery. But,” he continued, more cheer- 
fully, as he felt that he was saddening her, ^^long 
as they may seem, they will not last forever. I 
shall not forget you, and surely, some day, — if 
you remember me, — I shall look forward to seeing 
you again.” 

And now,” he said, in a minute, as Margery 
remained silent, let me tell you just what I ex- 
pect to do. You have heard us speak of my uncle 
— my mother’s only brother. He is an old man, 
and very feeble both in mind and body. Indeed, 
he is in such a state that he cannot brook the least 
opposition, and we, who love him, try always, 
when possible, to accede to his wishes. He is a 
lonely old man, for his wife and only child he 
buried years ago. Through all my fatherless boy- 
hood he watched over me as no other, except a 
father, could, and I have always been to him more 


THE FOE TEE’S DIEECTIONS. 


229 


like a son than a nephew. We have traveled 
together a great deal. When I met you, a year 
ago, we had but just returned from a long tour 
through Europe, and I hoped then to be able to 
remain at home, and expected this autumn to take 
charge of a little church that is very dear to me. 
In the spring, however, my uncle began to grow 
restless; all through this summer he has been 
talking of traveling again, and now, in the letter I 
received to-night, he writes that he has made all 
his arrangements, even to securing our state-rooms, 
and wishes to start immediately. This winter he 
proposes to spend in Egypt, and, in order to satisfy 
him, I must leave Pine Clumps to-morrow morn- 
ing. There are many reasons’^ — and Mr. Mac- 
Millan^s usually calm voice trembled now with 
some deep feeling — v/hy I regret my uncle’s de- 
cision. I do not like to leave my mother. It is 
a trial to give up my church, and — it is always a 
trial to say good-by when we know not what the 
greeting on our return may be. But I cannot op- 
pose nor refuse my uncle. In his helpless, forlorn 
old age I must repay the great kindness bestowed 
upon my youth, and be to him now the son he 
needs. Do you not think so ?” And Mr. Mac- 
Millan waited for Margery’s answer. 

She raised her head, and in the moonlight he 
saw her face ; it had never looked fairer or sweeter 
than it did then. 

20 


230 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


I know you will do what is right/’ she said, 
simply. But there was a ring in her voice that 
told of a trust and confidence that might have 
nerved one far less resolute than her hearer to 
deserve her faith. 

They had reached the farm-house now, and 
stood together for the last time on the old door- 
step. Mr. MacMillan gave one quick look up at 
the sky above them, then let his eyes roam to the 
beautiful bay before him and wander far across it 
to the ocean, whose white waves he could see 
gleaming brightly in the moonlight. Silently he 
watched it all, for a moment, and then once more 
let his eyes come back to Margery. 

God helping me, I will do right,” he said, 
solemnly. Good-by, Miss Margery ; I leave 
you — where I know you will be safe — in the 
hands that will keep sacred all I commit to them.” 

Without another word he turned away; and as 
Margery stood alone on the door-step she heard 
his firm, decided step as he walked rapidly from 
the house. 


CHAPTER XII, 


IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 

** Now they began to go down the hill into the valley of 
Humiliation. . . . This is a valley that nobody walks in but 
those that love a pilgrim’s life.’’ — Pilgrim's Progress^ Part II. 


^T^HE remaining days of Margery’s stay at Pine 
Clumps were checkered days, full at once 
of sunshine and shadows, of beautiful memories 
and hopes that were sadly blended with fears. 
Sl^e was almost constantly at Wind-love now. 

You belong to me until your own mother comes,” 
Mrs. MacMillan said, tenderly, and Margery felt 
that it was very sweet to be so claimed, and looked 
sorrowfully forward to the time when all the ties 
that bound her to Wind-love and the dear friends 
there would be broken, as she knew they would 
be when her parents returned. 

It sometimes seemed to Margery a very sad and 
strange thing that the friends to whom she be- 
longed by the bonds of blood and name should be 
so unlike the friends to whom she seemed, in soul,, 
really to belong. 


232 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


She loved her parents — loved them dearly. It 
was her very love for them that made her feel 
their displeasure so intensely. But these new 
friends — these heart-relations, as she sometimes 
affectionately called them — who understood her, 
and loved the things that she loved, and helped 
her to love them better, Margery felt that ties 
even more subtle and powerful than those of blood 
and name bound her to them, and often her 
mournful cry was, How can I give them up ? 

Mrs. MacMillan and Mrs. Carter spoke of the 
long visits she was to reake them during the 
winter, and Margery listened to their plans, and 
promised to fulfill them if she could, and yet all 
the time felt sure that when she left Pine Clumps 
she would, if her parents and brother could accom- 
plish it, have no more intercourse with these 
friends. 

The time to leave them came soon. One beau- 
tiful, early October day she came home from a 
walk with Miss Kathie, to find a letter waiting for 
her from Clifford. 

The steamer their parents were returning on 
was due in New York the next day. She must 
take the early morning train in order to be there 
in time to meet them on their arrival. 

When farewells have to be said, it is one of our 
heavenly Father^s tender arrangements for us that 
the time allotted to them is usually short. Mar- 


IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 


233 


gery had little time that night, in the bustle of 
packing and all her hurried preparations for 
departing, to brood over the break that was coming 
in her life, and the next morning, at the station, 
the parting words were as few as they were affec- 
tionate. 

They were all said at last. She was seated in 
the car ; from the window she caught a last, hasty 
glance of the tender, loving faces. Then the 
great engine gave its sudden puff, the train started, 
and Margery went onward to the life and friends 
awaiting her. 

There was nothing wanting in the love with 
which her parents greeted her, when, on first leav- 
ing the steamer, they clasped her in their arms. 

^^We will let by-gones be by-gones, little 
daughter,” Mr. Hamilton said, as he seated Mar- 
gery beside himself in the carriage, and drew her 
close to his side. ‘‘We are altogether once more, 
and now we will all try to make our life and home 
as happy as possible.” 

“ I will do my part, father,” Margery joyfully 
promised. But in a very few days she was made 
to feel that in a home as devoted as hers was to 
the love and service of the world, her part would 
only be to suffer. Her friends would not' consent 
to her being happy in her own chosen way, and 
she, even while they were proud of her and re- 
joiced in her beauty, could hardly be said to add 
20 * 


234 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


to their happiness, while her desires and tastes so 
constantly came in conflict with theirs. 

^^And so, Margery,^^ Mr. Hamilton said, an 
evening or two after they were once more settled 
in their home, you did not find Pine Glumps as 
lonely as you at first expected. Pray, how many 
were there in Professor Carter’s party ?” 

They had a good many visitors, father, but 
there were only five who remained all the summer : 
Professor Carter, and his wife. Miss Woodward, 
and Mr. and Mrs. MacMillan.” 

^^Mr. and Mrs. MacMillan, hey; were they 
husband and wife ?” 

Oh, no,” and Margery laughed gayly at the 
question. ^^Mrs. MacMillan was quite an elderly 
lady, and Mr, MacMillan was her son.” ' 

^^Her son. Humph ! Well, Margeiy, of them 
all, which did you like the best ?” 

They were all exceedingly kind to me, father, 
and I liked them all very much.” 

^^Yes, of course,” Mr. Hamilton said, in a 
peculiar tone. ^^But there are preferences in 
friendship as in most other things. Who were 
your favorites, Margery? I am positive you 
know, and I have a mind to know, too. Tell me.” 

When Mr. Hamilton said ^Hell me” in that 
tone, Margery knew he meant to be told, and, 
rather unwillingly, she answered, — 

^[1 think I liked Mrs. MacMillan and her 


IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 


235 


son best, father; I seemed to belong more to 
them.’’ 

Mr. Hamilton seized the poker, thrust it savagely 
through the bars of the grate, and stirred up the 
soft coal smouldering there until it broke into a 
brilliant blaze. He watched it grimly for a few 
moments, but then he said, — and whatever his 
thoughts might have been his voice was pleasant, — 
I do not choose that you should even seem to 
belong to those people, Margery; so you may put 
all such fancies out of your pretty head at once. 
You are my little daughter, and I have no mind 
to share my property in you with aiiy one. Do 
you understand, hey?” 

^^Yes, father, but I do not think love to my 
friends could ever conflict with my love to you.” 

do not mean that it ever shall,” Mr. Ham- 
ilton said, decidedly. And Margery sighed and 
took her first lesson in the humility that can bear 
to be thwarted and denied, and yet feel no resent- 
ment. 

The next day was Sunday. 

Where are you going, Margery?” Mr. Hamil- 
ton asked, as he met her on the stairs soon after 
breakfast, and noticed that she was dressed to go 
out. 

^^Only to Sunday-school.” 

Ridiculous! What do you want to go there 
for? What would you do there if you went?” 


236 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


I had a class of little girls for a few Sundays 
last spring/^ Margery explained, and I used to 
hear their Bible lessons, and, sometimes, I used to 
read to them/^ 

^^Read, did you? Well, you needn^t go to 
Sunday-school to do that, l^d like to be read to 
myself. Suppose you come in here and devote 
this morning to me.’^ And Mr. Hamilton opened 
the library door and walked into the room. 

Margery stood for a moment on the last step of 
the stairs with a troubled, doubtful look on her 
young face. She wanted very much to go to 
Sunday-school. Should she insist upon having 
her own way? Did God want her to go, or did 
he want her, in this, as in every other question 
where no real principle of right or wrong was 
involved, to submit to her parents ? 

There could be but one answer to that question, 
and, without a murmur, Margery followed her 
father. 

‘‘ What shall I read, father she asked, pleas- 
antly. 

Let me see.’’ And Mr. Hamilton walked to 
one of his well-filled book-cases. Do you know 
anything of Macaulay, Margery ?” 

^^Not much, except the little I found in my 
‘English Literature,^ Margery frankly confessed. 

“ Then I shall have the pleasure of introducing 
you to him to-day. You will find that he is 


IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 


237 


worthy of your intimate acquaintance/^ And Mr. 
Hamilton took down a book and came back to a 
seat near Margery. Here,” he said in a moment, 
you may read the essay on Milton. It is a grand 
composition on a grand subject. I shall be disap- 
pointed in you if you do not enjoy it.” And Mr. 
Hamilton settled himself comfortably in his easy- 
chair and Margery began to read. She read 
without interruption until she had finished Ma- 
caulay^s impassioned, glowing eulogy on the Puri- 
tans. 

Stop !” Mr. Hamilton said then. Do you 
agree with Macaulay there, Margery ? What do 
you think of those old fellows ?” 

Margery looked up with her face and eyes kind- 
ling with enthusiasm. I think they were almost 
the grandest heroes of whom I ever read, father.” 

Almost, hey? Then they don’t quite come up 
to your ideal of a hero. Pray, who does ?” 

There are grander ones in the Bible,” Mar- 
gery said, thoughtfully. St. Paul, for instance, 
father.” 

Stuff!” Mr. Hamilton exclaimed, contemptu- 
ously. ^^Let the heroes of the Bible remain in 
the Bible, if you please. I want to talk about 
those old Puritans. They were just a set of 
enthusiasts, my dear, — a most fanatical, intolerant 
body of men.” 

They did a grand work, father.” 


238 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


‘‘ Did they ? I am happy to hear it. That was 
when they persecuted Roger Williams and the 
Quakers, and hanged the witches, I suppose.^^ 
Father, they were human and they lived in 
an intolerant age. But I think — ^and there was 
a clear, sweet ring to Margery’s voice — I think 
that the men who could bind themselves by a 
solemn vow to walk in all God’s ways, made 
known or to be made known unto them, according 
to their best endeavors, whatsoever it should cost 
them, and who could keep that vow, deserve to 
be described by other adjectives than fanatical and 
intolerant.” 

Mr. Hamilton smiled. Margery looked very 
lovely just then, with her cheeks glowing and her 
eyes lit up with her interest in her subject. He 
enjoyed looking at her, and he was not annoyed 
when she differed with him, as long as it was not 
on any topic that concerned themselves personally. 
As he watched her, he suddenly asked, — 

^^How would you have enjoyed living with 
those same old Puritans, Margery ?” 

I’d much rather live now in the nineteenth 
century,” Margery quietly answered. 

^^You are evading my question. I said nothing 
about centuries. I was talking of men. When I 
ask a direct question, I wish a direct answer. 
Would you like to live now, in these days, with 
people like those Puritans, Margery ?” 


m THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 


239 


That question was certainly direct enough, but 
to give it a direct answer was a hard trial for 
Margery. She felt like a poor little sailing-craft^ 
whom an enemy, in the shape of a threatening 
man-of-war, has suddenly ordered to show her 
colors. If only she might keep her colors cov- 
ered, — but they must be shown. Mr. Hamilton 
was bent on being answered, and truthfully, 
though very reluctantly, she said, — 

am very glad to live now, in days when 
men know how to be charitable and merciful, as 
well as just, father. But with just such earnest, 
sincere Christians as those old Puritans were, — 
yes, father, I would like to live.’^ 

^^Bead on,^^ Mr. Hamilton commanded, in a 
voice that sounded very much like a growl. And 
Margery read on until the hour for church ar- 
rived. 

Margery,’^ Mr. Hamilton said, coldly, then, as 
she closed her book, hereafter, every Sunday 
morning, you will spend the time before church 
with me. Will you remember 

‘‘ Yes, father,^^ Margery promised, while she si- 
lently prayed for grace to be patient and humble. 

Mr. Hamilton did not again allude to that 
morning’s conversation. It was a little thing, but 
— as he said to himself — it was a straw which 
showed which way the wind was blowing. 
And since he did not mean that it should continue 


240 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


to blow in that direction, he decided in his own 
mind that it would be wise to keep Margery under 
close inspection. 

What have you there, Margery he asked, 
a day or two after, as Margery came into the li- 
brary with several white envelopes in her hand. 

Letters, father. IVe come for stamps for 
them.’^ 

Give them to me.’^ And Mr. Hamilton ex- 
tended his hand. 

Whom are they to And he looked at the 
directions. 

^^Ah! Professor Carter, Miss Kathie Wood- 
ward, Mrs. A. MacMillan. Margery, have you 
sent any other letters to these people 

^^Only a card, the day after my return home, 
father.’^ 

Very well. Be careful that you do not send 
any more.^^ And Mr. Hamilton walked deliber- 
ately to the grate and dropped the dainty, prettily- 
directed letters into the fire. 

Father, please, please don’t !” Margery cried, 
in great distress. 

^^Stop!” Mr. Hamilton said, sternly. Not an- 
other word, and not another letter, either ! Do 
you hear me, Margery ?” 

Father,” Margery managed to say, though 
her tears were almost choking her, ^^please let me 
write one more, just to explain ; they will think 


IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION 


241 


me so ungrateful if they do not hear from me at 
all/^ 

^^That is precisely what I wish them to think. 
It will, I hope, put a stop to their trying to see or 
hear from you again.” 

But, father, I cannot bear it,” Margery said, 
passionately. want to hear from them — I want 

to see them — they are my friends, and I love them 
dearly.” 

There are others on whom you may bestow 
your affection,” Mr. Hamilton said, severely. As 
for these people, Margery, you have seen the last 
of them — with my consent — and written your last 
letter to them.” 

^^But why?” Margery pleaded. ^^They are 
good people, father.” 

Too good,” Mr. Hamilton said, angrily ; ^^they 
effectually counteracted all that I hoped Pine 
Clumps would do for you. Margery, promise me, 
— I know I can rely upon your promise — that you 
will not write to these people again.” 

^^Only one little letter,” Margery ventured to 
beg. 

I tell you no, not one. Will you promise 
me, Margery ?” 

Margery stood in the centre of the room, the 
picture of despair. All her warm affections for 
her friends seemed to plead with her to cling to 
them, and all the pride of her nature rebelled at 
21 Q 


242 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


being so unjustly treated. Should she, could she 
submit to it ? 

^^Your parents are to be obeyed always, in 
every matter that does not touch your duty to 
God,’^ Mr. MacMillan had once said to her, and 
in that moment of bitter trouble Margery remem- 
bered his words. Would he have spoken them 
if he had foreseen what trying demands would be 
made upon her, and how entirely her obedience 
would separate her from himself and his friends? 

Yes, she knew he would ; even then, as she 
struggled with the fierce pride and anger that 
threatened to overpower her, she could almost hear 
him saying, ^^Do your duty ; God will take care of 
the consequences.^^ 

Down, far down into the valley of humiliation 
Margery went at that moment ; bravely she mas- 
tered her pride, and though the doing of her duty 
seemed a trial greater than she could bear, meekly 
she resolved that she would do it. 

Mr. Hamilton watched her struggle for a few 
hnoments; then he said, sternly, — 

I have a right to demand your obedience. 
Margery, will you give it to me 

Once — twice — Margery opened her lips and 
tried to speak, but the words rcfasecl to come. At 
last, by a strong effort, she forced herself to say, — 

^^Yes.^’ 

It was but one little word ; but as she uttered it. 


IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 


243 


it seemed to Margery that she was renouncing 
every hope that made her life beautiful. 

Was it really her duty to make that promise? 
Alone in her room that sorrowful day, Margery 
asked herself again and again that question. Her 
Bible gave her but one answer. There was no 
evading its clear, emphatic teachings that obedi- 
ence to parents was a solemn duty, always, where 
it did not clash with the still more solemn duty of 
obedience to God. Yes, she had done right, but 
only her heavenly Father knew at what painful 
cost. 

She hoped at first that her friends would write 
to her, though they did not hear from her. But, 
as the weeks went by, that, hope had to be sorrow- 
fully, but utterly abandoned. She did not know 
that, by her fathers orders, all her letters were 
handed first either to her mother or himself ; and 
she never knew of two or three that were tossed 
relentlessly into the fire. Nor did she know, until 
long after, of the lovely Indian summer day when 
her friends, on their way home from Pine Clumps, 
rode out to see her, and were coldly informed, by 
her mother’s orders, ^Hhat Miss Hamilton did not 
wish to see them.” She was not suffered to want 
for society of a certain kind. Mr. and Mrs. 
Hamilton were very gay — even for them — that 
winter. Their house was constantly thronged 
with visitors, and it sometimes seemed to Margery 


244 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


that, in the sphere in which she was placed, to 
entertain and to be entertained formed the chief 
end of life. 

It was a trying winter ; it wore upon her, and 
yet, in the truest sense, it did her no harm. 

Margery went far, very far, into the valley of 
humiliation in those days. She learned to curb 
her naturally ^proud spirit, to repress the quick 
and hasty word that often trembled on her lips 
and give a gentle one instead, and she gained, too, 
much of the beautiful spirit that helped her to 
obey the grand old precept, and be not easily 
provoked,’^ — not easily slighted. Like Mercy, 
in Pilgrim’s Progress,” Margery found that low, 
green valley of Humiliation a fruitful soil for the 
lilies of patience, meekness and faith, and passing 
through it, she learned to sing the Shepherd Boy’s 
Song ” of sweet content, — 

“ He that is down need fear no fall ; 

He that is low, no pride ; 

He that is humble ever shall 
Have God to be his guide. 

I am content with what I have, 

Little be it or much ; 

And, Lord, contentment still I craye, 

Because thou savest such. 

“ Fullness to such a burden is, 

That go on pilgrimage ; 

Here little, and hereafter bliss, 

Is best from age to age.^^ 


IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION, 


245 


Margery/^ Clifford said to her suddenly one 
day, what do you want most in this world 

I want to do right, Clifford,^^ she quietly an- 
swered. 

^^Bosh!’^ Clifford said, angrily, as he went off 
and banged the door after him. I wish that 
word ^ right ^ was blotted out of the dictionary.^^ 
Margery had spoken only the truth. In that 
still valley of humiliation she was learning that 
the doing of God^s will brought always its own 
comfort with it, and that no one ever, for Christas 
sake, endured wrong meekly and subdued pride, 
and sought in true humility to bear crosses with- 
out murmuring, who did not come, even in this 
life, into glad possession of the Saviour^s parting 
gift of peace that passeth all understanding. 

21 * 


CHAPTER XIIL 


HEALING LEAVES. 


“Then there came to him a hand with some of the leaves of 
the tree of life ; the which Christian took and applied to the 
wounds that he had received in the battle, and was healed 
immediately/^ — Pilgrim’s Progress, 


AVE you noticed how pale and thin Mar- 



gery is growing?’^ Mrs. Hamilton asked 


her husband, a little anxiously, one morning, in 
the May following their return from Europe. 

^^No. Is she? Eeally, I have been so en- 
gaged with business lately I haven’t thought 
much about it. There is nothing serious the 
matter, is there?” 

don’t know; probably not. But she is not 
well. I am sure of that. Suppose, on your way 
down town, you call on Dr. King and ask him to 
come in and see her.” 

Agreed. I’ll do it,” Mr. Hamilton answered. 
And, in consequence of that agreement, that after- 
noon saw Dr. King sitting in Mrs. Hamilton’s 
dressing-room and closely inspecting Margery. 

What is the matter with you, Miss Margery?” 


( 246 ) 


HEALING LEAVES, 


247 


lie asked, after he had felt her pulse and gone 
through with the usual preliminary exercises of a 
physician when making a professional call. 

Nothing, I think doctor,’’ Margery answered. 

Nothing — hum ! Well, Miss Margery, ^noth- 
ing’ is very much like one of the unknown quan- 
tities in algebra: you can never safely foretell 
what it will amount to. I have, myself, known 
pretty serious consequences to result from letting 
^nothing’ alone. What are you fretting about, 
hey?” And he suddenly turned his keen specta- 
cled eyes upon her, and scanned her as if she were 
a specimen under the microscope. 

Nothing,” Margery said again, and truthfully. 

^^You are sure? Well, what have you given 
up that you would like much to have, hey? And 
what are you doing that you do not like to do ? 
Will you answer ^nothing’ to both these ques- 
tions ?” And the old doctor peered at her at once 
inquisitively and kindly. 

The color deepened a little in Margery’s pale 
cheeks; but she answered, truthfully, have 
everything I ought to have, doctor, I believe, 
and I do not think I am doing anything just now 
that I ought not to do.” 

^^Glad to hear it,” Dr. King said, with a wise 
nod of the head. ^^It is not every one in this 
dissatisfied world that could say as much. Only ” — 
and the doctor paused in the very act of uncork- 


248 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


ing a tiny phial and looked meditatively at Mar- 
gery — it’s a curious fact, perhaps, but nevertheless 
I believe it is a pretty true one, that ought and 
wish are by no means synonymous words in the 
dictionary, and it is pretty hard, sometimes, to 
make them synonymous in life.” And with 
another wise little nod the doctor went on prepar- 
ing his medicine. 

There, Miss Margery,” he said, as he finished 
stirring the liquid, and set the glass containing 
it back on the table, there, you are to take a 
teaspoonful of that every hour or two for to-day 
and to-morrow, and at the end of that time I 
think you will feel strong enough to pack your 
trunk and start for Saratoga, won’t you ?” 

Why, doctor !” was all Margery in her sur- 
prise could say. 

Pre-cise-ly. I am glad you did not say ^no, 
Doctor.’ I am not in the habit of allowing my 
patients to dispute my orders. You need a change, 
and you could not have a pleasanter or more com- 
plete one than you will find in Saratoga for the 
next three or four weeks. So you need not object, 
young lady. My order is Saratoga, and you 
are to obey it; I’ll speak to your father about it. 
Good afternoon ! ” And the shrewd and humorous, 
but skillful and wise, old doctor hurried off. 

AVhen Dr. King’s order for Margery was 
made known to her parents there was not a 


HEALING LEAVES, 


249 


moment’s hesitation about obeying it. If she 
needed a change, she should have it; and if Sara- 
toga was the place for her, why, to Saratoga she 
should go. 

It was, however, true that Mrs. Hamilton both 
secretly and openly regretted the necessity of going 
before the gay season opened. Saratoga in mid- 
summer, when fashion and folly held high carnival 
there, she considered delightful; but Saratoga in 
May and June — Mrs. Hamilton was very doubt- 
ful of its being very delightful then. 

^^But, of course,” as she wisely said, health 
must be considered before pleasure.” And so 
trunks were speedily packed, and one fair, lovely 
evening in the last of May, Margery sat on the 
deck of one of the Hudson river steamboats, and 
in the beautiful purple twilight went gliding up 
the river on her way to Saratoga. 

Margery had at first felt inclined to regret the 
doctor’s selection of a place for her, but in a few 
days she owned that he was right. The pure, 
health-giving air and waters strengthened and in- 
vigorated her wonderfully, and she found Sara- 
toga in June a most beautiful place: as pure, and 
clean, and sweet, and quiet as nature, and. man — 
when he tried to do his best — could make it. 
None of the large, mammoth hotels were open; 
only a few quiet, home-like boarding-houses in 
which quiet, sensible people were happily resting. 


250 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


It was just at the time when a large assembly of 
ministers from all over the country was convened 
there, and a large woman’s home and foreign mis- 
sionary society was also holding its meetings 
there. 

Margery enjoyed these meetings. They were 
to the girl a wonderful revelation of the possibili- 
ties and power for good that God had entrusted to 
the Christian women of her land. And if she had 
ever been in danger of thinking that herself and 
her own salvation were all for which she was 
responsible, she was taught there the solemn but 
precious truth that she had a work to do for 
others as well as for herself ; and through all her 
after-life she never forgot it. 

She was standing one morning by the beautiful 
spring in Congress Park, waiting for her mother to 
finish her morning draught, when a gentleman, 
who was hurrying past, suddenly stopped. 

beg pardon, but is not this Miss Hamilton?’^ 
he asked, as he smilingly extended his hand. 

Margery ^s sober eyes brightened joyfully as she 
looked at him. ^^Mr. Woodward,^^ she exclaimed, 
is a pleasure I little expected.^^ And then, 
with an impatience that could hardly wait for his 
answer, she asked, — 

Is Miss Kathie with you?^^ 

^^Kathie? Oh, no, she is still with uncle Car- 
ter; I expect to meet them to-morrow in New 


HEALING LEAVES. 


251 


York. I supposed you knew all about their plans/^ 
and Mr. Woodward looked in some surprise at 
Margery. 

^^No. I have not heard from any of them in a 
long time/^ she answered, sadly. ^^Do you know 
how they all are, Mr. Woodward, — all who were at 
Wind-love last summer 

^^All very well,’^ he said, cheerfully. Haven’t 
you seen Mrs. MacMillan? She has been in Sara- 
toga all through these meetings, but she left this 
morning. Professor Carter and his wife and 
Kathie are to sail with me on Saturday for Glas- 
gow. Archibald has promised to meet us there, 
and I think Mrs. MacMillan will join us a little 
later. So, Miss Hamilton, you must think of us 
this summer as roaming over old Scotia’s hills, 
visiting the English lakes, and doing all the other 
things that are usually expected of travelers.” And 
Mr. Woodward laughed, as if his own expecta- 
tions were all pleasant. 

Margery scarcely heard him, for she was strug-«# 
gling with a great disappointment. It hurt her like 
a blow to hear that Mrs. MacMillan had been so 
near her in Saratoga, and that now she was gone 
beyond her reach. She could not speak at once, 
and in a moment Mr. Woodward said, — 

^^Have you been ill. Miss Hamilton? I am 
sorry to see that you are not looking very strong.” 

I am better,” she answered, indiiferently. ‘^Mr. 


252 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Woodward/’ she continued, in a very different tone, 
‘‘ when you see my friends, will you please give 
them my warmest love?” 

will, with pleasure,” he answered, kindly. 
am very glad to have met you. Miss Hamilton, 
and I am sorry to leave you so soon , but I am to 
take the next train to the city, and am therefore 
quite hurried. Good-by.” And, with another 
cordial clasp of her hand, Mr. Woodward bowed 
and left her, just as her mother set down her last 
glass and turned towards her. 

Who was that, Margery ?” she asked, in a dis- 
satisfied voice. 

‘^Mr. Woodward, mother; Miss Kathie Wood- 
ward’s brother.” 

‘^What! are those people here, in Saratoga?” 
Mrs. Hamilton asked, in a tone that implied if they 
were there, a great wrong and injustice had been 
done her. 

Margery sighed as she answered : Mrs. Mac- 
Millan has been, mother, but she left this morning; 
and Mr. Woodward leaves to-day.” 

am glad to hear it,” Mrs. Hamilton said, with 
an expression of great content. consider that 
we have had a very fortunate escape in not meet- 
ing them.” 

Margery did not reply, and Mrs. Hamilton little 
suspected with what a sad heart her young daugh- 
ter walked with her through the pleasant streets 


HEALING LEAVES. 


253 


that sunny morning. The pleasure of hearing 
from her friends was, for a time, almost forgotten 
in the keen sorrow with which Margery realized 
her separation from them. ^^They do not miss 
nor want me,^^ she mournfully thought. But on 
that truth —often such a bitter one for our poor 
hearts to accept — Margery would not allow herself 
long to dwell. Some sad tears fell when she was 
once more alone in her own room, but soon she 
brushed them resolutely away. I am glad they 
are happy,^’ she said to herself, and as for me — 
well, I am God’s child, and 

* [n the way that he shall choose 
He shall lead me.’ ” 

Come, Margery,” Mrs. Hamilton said, a little 
later that morning, this is such a lovely day I 
propose that we go up Mount MacGregor.” 

It was a fair, still, exquisite June noon when, 
as the result of Mrs. Hamilton’s proposal, Margery 
found herself standing on the cool piazza of the 
MacGregor house. In the clear atmosphere, far 
away in the green lowlands, she could see quiet 
villages and peaceful homes ; around her, on the 
hill-top, was only the hush and repose with which 
nature everywhere loves to crown her heights. 

Mrs. Hamilton, wearied from her ride, soon 
found her way into one of the quiet rooms, and 
dropped down on a sofa to rest ; and Margery, left 
22 


254 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


to herself, strolled idly about the mountain in 
search of ferns and mosses. Tiring, in a little 
while, of even that pleasant quest, she went back 
to the house, and sitting down on the piazza, looked 
with thoughtful, questioning eyes at the three or 
four tiny wild-flowers she had gathered during 
her walk. Down in the woods and fields and 
meadows below them, what a profusion of grow- 
ing, blooming things there were! up there, on that 
bleak mountain-top, those few lonely wild-flowers 
looked like timid children that had lost their way; 
and, as she studied them, the thought in her mind 
shaped itself slowly into words. 

I do not understand,’^ she said, unconscious 
that she was speaking aloud, I do not under- 
stand why so much should be crowded into some 
lives, and so much withheld from others.” 

^^And I do not understand,” said a gentle voice 
beside her, just then, what you are doing here to- 
day, Margery Hamilton ; but, my dear child, I am 
very glad to see you.” 

Margery gave one glad look up at the speaker, 
and the next moment was laughing and crying in 
Mrs. MacMillan’s arms. 

I thought you had gone away,” she said, as 
soon as she was calm enough to speak ; Mr. 
Woodward said so.” 

I changed my plans quite suddenly,” Mrs. 
MacMillan explained, and, tempted by the peace 


HEALING LEAVES, 


255 


of this mountain-top, I came up here with a friend 
to spend the day. And now, my dear, tell me 
about yourself. What are you doing here 

In a few words Margery answered that ques- 
tion ; self was a very uninteresting topic to her at 
that moment — there was so much she wanted to 
ask and hear. 

Please tell me all about everybody,^’ she 
begged, and Mrs. MacMillan smilingly complied. 

She did not know when Archibald would re- 
turn, she said, among items of information ; his 
uncle insisted on remaining abroad, and she was 
thinking quite seriously of joining them some time 
during the summer. She expected, she added, to 
leave the mountain and Saratoga the next day. 

It seems as if I could not let you go,^^ Margery 
said, affectionately. ^^Dear Mrs. MacMillan, I 
have wanted to see you so much, and now I cannot 
endure the thought that I have only met you for a 
few moments, and must then be parted from you 
again 

It must be better so, dear child,’^ Mrs. Mac- 
Millan said, cheerfully, though something in the 
clasp of her arm told how gladly she would keep 
the young girl with her if she could. God 
knows when it is best to keep his children apart, 
or best to bring them together.^’ 

He seems to keep us apart more than he brings 
us together, though,^^ Margery said, in a sad voice. 


256 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


^^Dear Mrs. MacMillan, you do not know how 
much the ^ withheld opportunities ’ and ^ withheld 
completions of life ^ puzzle me sometimes. God is 
so able to give, and yet — ^yet withholds so much.^^ 

There were tears in Mrs. MacMillan’s eyes, even 
while she said, with a smile, If Archibald were 
here now, my dear, I fear he would scold us both ; 
for I, too, — when he is away, — often feel as if much 
was withheld from me. But now shall I tell you 
what comforts me when such sad thoughts come ?” 

‘‘ Yes, if you please,” Margery said, while she 
drew more closely to Mrs. MacMillan’s side. 

The hand that rested for a moment on the 
young girl’s hair was very gentle in its touch, and 
Mrs. MacMillan’s voice was very tender as she 
asked, — 

^^Do you still read your ^ Pilgrim’s Progress,’ 
Margery? and do you remember the Interpreter’s 
house and the wonderful things that were there 
shown Christian ?” 

Some of them ; not all, I am afraid,” Mar- 
gery answered to the last question. 

Do you remember this? Let me tell you in 
Bunyan’s own words. I love his quaint, old 
Saxon phraseology more and more. ^ I saw more- 
over in my dream that the Interpreter took him 
by the hand, and had him into a little room, where 
sat two little children, each one in his chair. The 
name of the eldest was Passion, and the name of 


HEALING LEAVES. 


257 


the other Patience. Passion seemed to be much 
discontented, but Patience was very quiet. Then 
Christian asked : What is the reason of the dis- 
content of Passion?’’ The Interpreter answered, 
The governor of them would have him stay for 
his best things till the beginning of the next year ; 
but he will have all now. But Patience is willing 
to wait.” ’ ” 

A moment’s silence followed Mrs. MacMillan’s 
last words, and then she asked, gently, — 

Is there not an explanation of all those ^ with- 
held opportunities and completions’ that puzzle 
you so much, dear Margery, in just this one little 
sentence, ^ The governor of them would have him 
stay for his best things till the beginning of the 
next year?’ ” 

Yes,” Margery humbly acknowledged. If 
only, dear Mrs. MacMillan, we could always feel 
sure about ^ the next year.’ ” 

Mrs. MacMillan’s first answer to those sober 
words was a gentle kiss. I am not at all sure 
that you deserve it, though,” she said, smilingly, 
as she gave it. Margery, I shall begin to fear 
that you are a prisoner in one of the many dun- 
geons of castle Doubting if you do not look up 
and speak more hopefully. Don’t you know, my 
dear child, that to be sure of what Bunyan so 
quaintly calls Hhe next year’ is the Christian’s 
happiest privilege ?” 


22 ^ 


258 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Margery’s answer to that question was a smile 
more eloquent than words ; but, in a moment, she 
said, — 

Mrs. MacMillan, isn’t it natural to wish to 
have our good things now, and to wish, too, to be 
delivered from all the disagreeable things that are 
troubling and grieving us ?” 

Very natural, dear Margery,” Mrs. MacMil- 
lan said, with a smile ; so natural, that at this 
very moment I cannot help wishing for something 
that would be inexpressibly sweet and precious to 
me, but that I know — even if I ever have it— I 
must wait a long time for. The sin is not in 
wishing for these ^ good things,’ dear, but in re- 
pining and fretting because they are denied us, and 
in doubting God’s love because he does not at 
once indulge and deliver us.” 

Still,” Margery could not help saying, ^Gt 
does seem strange that he does not at once deliver 
us when we ask him to do so, and he has all 
power.” 

Hush !” Mrs. MacMillan said, with a kind 
imperativeness that reminded Margery strongly of 
her son. Do you remember Christian’s answer 
to Apollyon, Margery, in the valley of Humilia- 
tion, when he was tortured with just such sugges- 
tions as are troubling you now ? Sometimes, when 
we find ourselves in that valley, — and I am not 
sure but you are there now, — it is very helpful 


HEALING LEAVES. 


259 


for US to remember it. Let me repeat it to you, — 
^ His forbearing at present to deliver them is on 
purpose to try their love, whether they will cleave 
to him to the end.’ ” 

I mean to cleave,” Margery softly whispered. 

I know you do, and I am sure you will,” was 
the encouraging answer. ^^And whenever, dear 
child, you feel weary or weak with your conflicts, 
go to your Bible, and in its precious promises you 
will find the healing leaves that strengthened and 
restored Christian. And now you need not expect 
me to preach any longer, for I want to know more 
about yourself.” 

Another hour passed quickly and happily by, 
and then the little engine that had brought them 
up the mountain uttered its warning call. 

Train will start in ten minutes,” shouted a 
man who ran up the steps of the piazza, and Mrs. 
Hamilton, hearing his words, came hurriedly out. 

Come, Margery,” she said, let us go at once 
and get good seats.” 

Margery turned to Mrs. MacMillan ; there was 
a hasty introduction that Mrs. Hamilton coldly 
acknowledged ; then a hurried parting, and in a 
few minutes Margery was going down the moun- 
tain, and again, for long months, there was silence 
between herself and her friendso 


THKOUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 
OF DEATH. 


‘‘ Now at the end of this valley was another, called the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death ; and Christian must needs go through 
it, because the way to the Celestial City lay through the midst 
of it. Now, this valley is a very solitary place .^’ — PilgrMs 
Progress, 



do not know what ails me/’ Mr. Hamilton 


said one morning, when, a few weeks after 
Margery’s return from Saratoga, he joined his 
family at breakfast, but between my back and 
head I had no rest last night, and feel perfectly 
wretched this morning.” 

You must have taken cold,” Mrs. Hamilton 
indifferently suggested. 

Looks like it. I hope it is nothing worse,” 
her husband answered, soberly. No,” he said in 
a few moments, as, after sugaring his coffee, he 
pushed his cup away, I cannot drink it. And 
there is no denying it : I am sick.” 

Lie down on the sofa, father, and let me bathe 
your head,” Margery said, affectionately ; and, yield- 


( 260 ) 


THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH 261 


ing to her gentle persuasions, Mr. Hamilton rested 
for awhile on the library sofa, and Margery 
hovered over him, doing first one little thing and 
then another for his relief. Her efforts, however, 
seemed to avail little, and as the morning advanced 
Mr. Hamilton’s distress evidently increased. 

‘^Better send for the doctor,” Mrs. Hamilton 
advised. And at last he consented. 

I haven’t felt well for several days,” he said, 
languidly, and I suppose this is nature’s revenge 
for not heeding her warning before. But send for 
the doctor, and let us know the worst.” 

Dr. King soon came. And the worst, if one 
could judge from his serious face after he had 
examined his patient, threatened to prove no 
trivial matter. Miss Margery,” he said as, on 
leaving Mr. Hamilton’s room, he met her in the 
hall, where is your mother ?” 

In the library, I think. Doctor.” 

Come there with me, then,” Dr. King ordered, 
in a peremptory voice. 

^^Now, tell me,” he said, as, alone with the 
mother and daughter, he looked at them with 
sober and searching eyes, ^^how much courage 
have you to meet a great danger and endure a 
great trial ?” 

I haven’t any, doctor,” Mrs. Hamilton said, 
nervously. 

And you ?” and the doctor turned to Margery. 


262 


ALONG THE OLD HOAD. 


Margery had grown very pale. The doctor’s 
grave manner warned her — as he intended it 
should — to prepare for some painful ordeal^ and, 
for a moment, she faltered. But then faith softly 
whispered the sacred promise, as thy days, so 
shall thy strength be,” and her voice, though low, 
was calm and steady, as she answered, — 

believe God will give me strength and 
courage, doctor, to bear all he sends. But,” she 
added, anxiously, please do not keep us in sus- 
pense. Tell us the truth at once.” 

Dr. King waited a moment before answering 
that appeal. Evidently the truth was not a 
pleasant or an easy thing for him to tell. But 
soon he said, quietly, — 

Your father is pretty sick.” 

Yes, I know that,” Mrs. Hamilton impatiently 
replied. But it is nothing serious, is it, doctor ? 
You will soon have him well again, won’t you ?” 

We will hope so,” Dr. King answered. But 
now you must be brave and hear the rest. He 
has a contagious disease.” 

What ?” Mrs. Hamilton demanded, in a sharp, 
quick voice. 

He has all the symptoms of small-pox.” 

As if a heavy hand had suddenly struck her, 
Mrs. Hamilton fell back in her chair, and Mar- 
gery, with a face from which every particle of 
color had now fled, stood looking at the doctor. 


7 


THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 263 

what shall I do? what shall I do?^^ 
Mrs. Hamilton groaned soon. have always 

had such a perfect horror of that disease, doctor ! 
can^t you take care of him ? It will be no use 
for me to try to nurse him ; it will kill me if I 
do, I know it will.^^ 

Mother,^^ Margery said, soothingly, don’t do 
so. I’ll take care of father.” 

Then you’ll die, or else your good looks will 
be ruined,” Mrs. Hamilton said, with an hys- 
terical cry. 

“ I am in God’s hands,” Margery said, gently. 

Don’t feel anxious about me, mother.” 

^^As if I could help it,” Mrs. Hamilton said, 
in a despairing voice. Doctor, do you think 
Margery and I can have contracted the disease 
yet ?” 

No,” the doctor said, shortly. 

^^Then, doctor, wouldn’t it be best for us to 
leave the house at once? You can provide the 
best professional nurses for him, and, if we were 
to stay, we could not do him any good, you know, 
and we would probably both be sick before long. 
Wouldn’t it really be the wisest course for us to 
go away?” 

Since you feel so, yes,” the doctor said, in a 
short, cold voice. Where is Clifford ?” 

He is at Newport. What a mercy it is he is 
away from home at this time ! I’ll send him a 


264 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


telegram not to return as long as there is any 
danger?^ 

As you please/^ the doctor said, with a frown. 

I cannot stay to discuss your plans with you, 
madam ; I must secure the nurses at once ; my 
patient must not die through my neglect.^^ And, 
with a bow that was more expressive of scorn 
than respect. Dr. King left the room. 

A light foot followed him, and a soft voice 
said, just as he was opening the front-door, ‘‘ Doc- 
tor, will you tell me just what to do for father ? I 
^m going to take care of him.^^ 

The doctor’s stern face softened. ^^No, no, 
child,” he said, I don’t want you to stay. Go 
with your mother.” 

Mother is nervous and not very strong,” Mar- 
gery said, with a tender wish' to shield the mother, 
of whose selfishness she felt bitterly ashamed. 

But I am young, doctor, and my place is with 
father. I know he will want me, and when he 
does, I do not want to be missing.” 

You will never be missing where your duty 
calls you,” Dr. King thought, admiringly. But 
he only said, — 

Think well. Miss Margery, before you decide. 
For, once exposed to this disease, I cannot allow 
you to go away; you must remain in quarantine 
here.” 

I have decided,” The low words were calmly 


THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH 265 


spoken, and the silent prayer that preceded and 
followed was known only to God. 

The doctor stood for a second irresolute. 
‘^Well,’^ he said then, doift know where a 
man is to look for ^ministering angels’ in such 
times as this, if his own family does not prove 
faithful to him. So come, if you will. Miss Mar- 
gery, and we will go to your father. I am afraid 
he has been alone too long already.” 

Years after, when Margery looked back to that 
trying day and to the still more trying ones that 
followed, it seemed to her as if she must be 
dreaming and as if she never could have lived 
through such a fearful trial. 

But the heart that is stayed on God always 
finds that God’s grace is sufficient for it. And so 
Margery found it now. 

Before the sun set that beautiful summer day 
Mrs. Hamilton was safely domiciled in a quiet, 
country home, where telegrams could reach her 
easily, though she trusted contagion could not. 
Clifford was telegraphed to and the frightened 
servants were all dismissed. Only Mrs. True 
remained. 

The Lord has brought me through many dan- 
gers,” she said, composedly, when matters were 
first explained to her, ^^and, if he pleases, he can 
bring me through now; and, anyway. Miss Mar- 
gery dear, I’d rather die a little sooner — if that 
23 


'266 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


could be — through doing my duty, than live a 
while longer because I neglected it/^ And so 
through all her trial Mrs. True stood faithfully at 
Margery^s side. 

Professional nurses were soon provided by Dr. 
King, but through all his illness Mr. Hamilton 
displayed a great repugnance to them. He uttered 
no complaint when he learned that his wife and 
son had failed him in his bitter need, but his sad 
eyes brightened whenever they rested on Margery; 
and though at first he expressed much solicitude 
about her, yet soon, in his weak, suffering state, 
he forgot his fears, and was always restless and 
troubled when she was not beside him. 

Slowly the beautiful summer days drifted by. 
No one save the doctor came near the house, and 
with the exception of occasional telegrams from 
her brother and mother — for Mrs. Hamilton’s 
dread of contagion made her afraid not only to 
receive, but even to write letters — Margery was as 
much cut off from all communication with the 
outside world as if she had been suddenly trans- 
ported to one of the dreary, ice-bound islands of 
the Northern Ocean. 

Dr. King watched over her carefully and shielded 
her with every precaution known to his skill, but 
Margery thought little of her own danger. Her 
whole life in those days was centred in her father. 

O God !” she pleaded, in brokenness of heart, 


THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH, 267 


him not die. Not die, at least, until he has 
learned to know and believe the great love that 
thou hast for him.’^ 

So, through the long days and longer nights she 
watched and prayed, and still the sick man strug- 
gled with disease and hourly passed farther and 
farther into that dark valley, whose gloomy shad- 
ows remain unbroken save when God^s love dispels 
them. 

And Margery herself went down, far down into 
that fearful valley. Often our keenest, deepest 
pain is caused by the sorrows and sufferings of 
others — of those who seem dearer to us than life, 
but whose lives we are powerless to save. 

Often our saddest cries are wrung from us, not 
by a consciousness of our own great need, but by 
a despairing conviction of the bitter need of those 
who are going from us, impenitent and unpar- 
doned, to meet a God whose love they have de- 
spised, a Saviour whose offered salvation they 
have refused. 

Those who have passed through such dark 
sorrows know well what the valley of the shadow 
of death is. And they can understand why often, 
in after-years, when Margery was pleading for 
Christ with those who loved him not, she would 
say,— 

^^If you have no pity for yourselves ; if you do 
not for yourselves care to secure eternal life, yet. 


268 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


for the sake of those you love, do not delay to seek 
it. Think! You make every other provision for 
the peace and comfort of your dear ones when you 
have gone from them. Oh, do not fail to leave 
them this, the most precious of all legacies — the 
glad, sure conviction that you have only left them 
to live forever with Christ.^^ 

Oh, the diflference between standing at the 
grave of a Christian who has only gone home, or 
at the grave of one who has gone as a stranger 
into a land where none will welcome him ! ^There 
are hearts that have felt that diflference, but no 
words can describe it. 

Would Mr. Hamilton live or die? Margery 
could not ask that question in words, but her sad, 
anxious face asked it, for her with touching eager- 
ness, and daily good Dr. King would say, Hope 
for the best, my child, hope for the best.^^ 

And Margery hoped and prayed until one even- 
ing, as she sat alone and listened to her father’s 
moans and incoherent murmurs, her faith seemed 
utterly to . fail her, and with a hopeless cry she 
dropped down upon the floor and let the bitter 
agony in her soul have vent. 

^^He must not die,” she moaned. God! 
who art love, thou surely wilt not let him die. Oh, 
save him, — save him to become a Christian. Oh, 
if he should die now, how could I bear it? Oh, 
how could I ever believe in prayer again, if. 


THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH 269 


after all my prayers, thou shouldst not let him 
live 

Through the hush of that starlight night there 
came no answer to her anguished cries, and min- 
utes passed and still she lay there struggling with 
her terrible fears. 

Once a quick, boyish step went by the house, 
and a fresh young voice trilled sweetly the refrain 
of the tender hymn, Nobody knows but Jesus.’^ 

Margery was hardly conscious that she heard, 
and yet she raised her head to listen. 

Did Jesus really know ? Was he caring for her 
in her trial ? Would he provide some way that 
she might be able to bear it ? Faith, that had 
been growing so weak, rallied and looked upward. 

Casting all your care upon him,^^ she whis- 
pered, for he careth for you.^^ 

And Margery heeded and obeyed. 

^^Dear Lord,^\she murmured soon, cannot 
love him more than thou, since thou couldst die for 
him. I leave him in thy hands. Thy will be done.^^ 

^^Thy will be done.^^ As Margery breathed 
that prayer there came a sudden and sure con- 
sciousness that God’s will w^as always love, and 
that, even now, for her and for her father, it was 
full of mercy and blessing; and, comforted and 
strengthened, she arose and stepped cautiously to 
her father’s bed-side. 

He was aw^ake, and Margery’s heart throbbed 
23 ^ 


270 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


with joy as she saw that he looked at her more 
intelligently than he had in several days. 

^‘Margery, — little daughter/^ he said, feebly, 
^^you know how to pray ; say — Our Father.^^ 
Softly, with trembling lips, Margery obeyed. 
^^Our Father,^^ the sick man whispered, bro- 
kenly. Our — Father. I know — by my own 

heart, Margery — how a father feels. I — will — trust 
him, and — if I live — I — will — obey him.^^ 

The weak voice faltered and stopped. The tired 
eyes closed wearily. Was it life or death that 
was waiting in that quiet room ? 

Margery could not tell. 

Long she knelt there and watched, until the 
eastern sky grew pink with the early dawn, and 
the stir in the street told that men were once more 
awaking and resuming their daily cares and labors. 

Margery,’^ her father whispered then, I feel 
better, darling. I believe God has heard your 
prayers. I shall live, and not die, little daughter, 
— live to praise him for his goodness.^^ 

With a glad burst of grateful tears, Margery 
heard those humble words. For her, as for Chris- 
tian in that same dark valley, after the long night, 
the day had broken, and with Christian she, too, 
could say, — 

He hath turned — for me — ^the shadow of death 
into the morning.^^ 


CHAPTER XV. 


IN VANITY FAIR. 


Then I saw in my dream, that when they were got ont of 
the wilderness, they presently saw a town before them, and the 
name of that town is Vanity ; and at the town there is a fair kept 


called Vanity Fair. 


Now, as I said, the way to the 


Celestial City lies just through this town where this lusty fair is 
kept; and he that will go to the city, and yet not go through 
this town, must needs go out of the world.’^ 


— Pilgrim’s Progress, 



•OR many days after the crisis in Mr. Hamil- 


ilton’s illness Margery and her father remain- 
ed isolated from the rest of the world, and depend- 
ent upon each other for sympathy and companion- 
ship. And in those quiet, shut-in days the fatlier 
and daughter drew very close together, ' for Mr. 
Hamilton remained true to his solemn promise. 
His was no mere sick-bed repentance, forgotten 
as soon as health returned, but the firm and 
abiding resolve of a humbled, contrite heart. 
And almost his first act, when he again mingled 
with the world, was to come forward and ac- 
knowledge himself a Christian ; and in his home, 
his business, and his social relations, his life hence- 


( 271 ) 


272 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


forth declared that his profession was sincere. It 
seemed to Margery now, that the great joy she felt 
in her father’s conversion more than compensated 
for all she had suffered, and in glad content the 
time went by until the chill, red-leaf, autumn days 
arrived, and Mrs. Hamilton and Clifford judged 
it safe to return home. 

Mrs. Hamilton paid very little attention to the 
change in her husband’s life and belief. 

It was natural, she supposed, that he should 
feel a little serious for a while after being so Very 
ill. She did not believe he would continue to feel 
so long, and any way, she said, she had not time 
to think or talk much about it; for she had re- 
turned home with her mind full of a very im- 
portant family affair. Clifford and Laura Stanton 
were engaged ; they were to be married shortly 
before Christmas, and thoughts of dress, and wed- 
ding presents, and wedding receptions, left Mrs. 
Hamilton little time to think of such trivial mat- 
ters — to her — as souls and their eternal interests. 

On one point, however, she did find time to 
think and speak with decision. 

If Mr. Hamilton was weak enough now to 
be willing to indulge Margery in all her extreme, 
ridiculous notions, she at least, would remain firm 
in her opposition. 

Margery, she resolved, should go to the city 
soon for the winter. She should ^^come out” in 


IN VANITY FAIR. 


273 


the best society — the best meaning, of course, in 
Mrs. Hamilton’s mind, the wealthiest and most 
fashionable — and she should be Laura’s bridesmaid. 
And she would, Mrs. Hamilton felt, be a very re- 
markable girl, if she was not soon fascinated with 
the pleasures offered her, and did not, in a little 
while, begin to think and act like other people” — 
consummation,” in Mrs. Hamilton’s opinion, 
devoutly to be wished,” for there was nothing she 
dreaded more than a charge of singularity. 

ivtargery found it impossible to escape that visit 
to the city ; and, in compliance with her mother’s 
wishes, she packed her trunk, and went, one 
pleasant November day, to Mrs. Stanton’s. 

She found Laura intent as ever on having what 
she called a good time.” Dress, fashion, and dis- 
play — she lived for these things during the day 
and dreamed of them at night. She had no 
leisure for serious thought. Society, like a hard 
task-master, ' claimed all her time and talents, 
and Laura devoted herself to it, and aspired to 
nothing higher than the position of leader” in it : 
and was only one of a great number. Margery 
saw them all around her, and soon found that the 
highest ambition of each was to surpass and excel 
all the others. Often Margery thought of that 
wonderful scene in the Interpreter’s house, where, 
‘^you are fairer than I am, said one, and you 
are more comely than I am, said another,” and as 


274 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


she contrasted that language with what she heard 
everywhere about her, Margery was at no loss to 
understand why the speech of the pilgrims 
sounded strange to the dwellers in Vanity Fair. 

And now once more in this gay society the 
problem • every Christian has to solve was pre- 
sented. to Mai’gery. To be in the world and yet 
not of it; to satisfy, as far as possible, the re- 
quirements of her friends and yet to keep herself 

unspotted in the midst of the brilliant and 
beautiful, yet frivolous and worldly, life by which 
she was surrounded ; this was the problem pre- 
sented to Margery now. Would it prove an easy 
one to solve ? 

Ah ! often in the giddy days that preceded 
Laura’s marriage did Margery find herself where, 
like Bunyan’s pilgrims, she felt, I have need to 
cry to the Strong for strength and realized 
keenly, too, that, like them, ^^she would have 
need to use it when she had it.” But her safety 
was just in this — that she did ^^cry,” and never 
in vain. 

Her friends did not mean to be unkind ; ^^they 
only,” as Laura said, ^Svanted her to go their 
way.” And as that seemed the one thing she was 
not willing to do, they did not spare their ridicule 
and opposition. 

Come, Margery,” Laura said, as she entered 
Margery’s room the evening of her first Sunday 


IN VANITY FAIR, 


275 


at Mrs. Stanton^s. Clifford and Mr. Stevenson 
are in the parlor, and we want you to join us.^^ 
Excuse me, please, Laura,^^ Margery gently 
requested. 

^^Nonsensef’ Laura said, impatiently; this house 
isn’t a nunnery, Margery. You cannot shut your- 
self away from the world here.” And then, more 
pleasantly, she added, Clifford really wants you 
to come down ; he will feel hurt if you refuse.” 

Margery sighed. If she did not go down she 
knew Clifford would be angry ; but if she did go, 
what then ? Well, perhaps nothing. Perhaps he 
would be satisfied if she j ust went down for a few 
minutes, and then she would excuse Jierself and 
return to her room, and having thus compromised 
with her wishes, Margery pleasantly yielded to 
Laura and accompanied her to the parlor. Clif- 
ford and Mr. Stevenson were there, and also the 
Effie Moffatt whom Margery had met at Quan- 
tuck, and who was now visiting Laura. 

^^We are just a sociable, little home-party,” 
Mr. Stevenson said soon. ^^And now I propose 
that we have a musical evening. Miss Margery, 
I know you play and sing, and now I hope I may 
enjoy the long-postponed pleasure of hearing you ; 
may I not?” 

^^Of course, you may,” Clifford exclaimed, 
quickly, before Margery could speak. Margery 
will be only too happy to sing for us to-night ; 


276 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


won’t you, Margery?” And Clifford looked at 
his sister with an expression that plainly implied 
he meant she should sing, whether she would be 
happy to do so or not. 

‘^You would not care for my music to-night, 
Clifford,” Margery said, quietly. 

Just as much to-night as any night,” he re- 
turned. Just go to the piano and try me. There 
is my favorite song from ^ Trovatore give us that, 
will you?” 

Not to-night.” 

^^And pray, wliy ^ not to-night ?’ ” Clifford 
asked, fretfully, while he mimicked her tone. 

Margery’s answer was very low, but firm. 

It is Sunday night, Clifford, and I do not sing 
opera songs on Sunday.” 

^^The better the day, the better the deed,” 
quoted Mr. Stevenson, with a careless laugh. 

Come, Miss Margery, you must sing us some- 
thing. If you object to opera, why we will listen 
to ballads. There’s ^Aimie Laurie ;’ that’s always 
beautiful. Now let us hear that, won’t you ?” 

Some other time, perhaps,” Margery answered, 
gently. 

^^But not to-night? Miss Margery, you are 
positively cruel. Laura, where is your influence? 
Won’t you exert it on my behalf?” And Mr. 
Stevenson turned, with a comical look of distress, 
to his cousin. 


IN VANITY FAIR. 


277 


Birds that can sing and won’t sing — ^you know 
what ought to be done with them/’ Effie broke 
in. Margery, I wish I could coax you to sing. 
I do want to hear you very much.” 

If you will let me choose my own music,” 
Margery said, pleasantly, I will cheerfully sing 
for you.” 

Your own,” Clifford said, in a scornful voice. 

I did not know before that you possessed the 
monopoly of any one kind. It is psalm-tunes and 
Dr. Watts’ hymns, I suppose, isn’t it? Yes ; do, 
by all means, let us have a little of that hark- 
from-the-tombs, doleful sort of music. No doubt 
we will enjoy it immensely.” 

Without another word, Margery went to the 
piano. She played a soft, sweet accompaniment, 
and then sang, — 

Abide with me, fast falls the eventide, 

The darkness thickens, Lord, with me abide. 

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 

Help of the helpless, O, abide with me.^' 

I like that,” Effie said, when she stopped. 

Go on, Margery.” 

No,” Clifford interposed ; don’t ask her to do 
that. Miss Moffatt. Margery would go on sing- 
ing hymns until morning, I don’t doubt, if we 
would listen to her.” 

Now, Margery,” — and he turned to his sister, 
— confess that you felt very self-satisfied and 
24 


278 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


comfortable while singing that hymn. It made 
you feel so much better than the rest of us, didn’t 
it now ?” 

Clifford, how can you talk so ?” Margery said, 
in a gentle, pleading voice. 

I do not find it at all difficult, I assure you,” 
Clifford fiercely answered. It irritates me be- 
yond expression, Margery, to have you pretend 
to be so much better than the rest of us. If 
Sunday is not too good a day for us to sing 
operas and ballads, why should it be too good for 
you ?” 

You know the reason, Clifford.’’ 

Do I ? Then I suppose it is because that old 
fourth commandment says something about remem- 
bering the Sabbath-day. Margery, it is a great 
pity that you haven’t common sense. If you only 
had, you would see at once that what was, possibly, 
binding on those old Jews two thousand years ago, 
is no longer binding on us.” 

Margery thought a moment; should she drop 
the discussion, or should she, once for all, frankly 
and plainly state her views ? Wisely, in her case, 
she decided on the latter course. When we truth- 
fully, and without bitterness, acknoAvledge our be- 
lief, we will usually be left to enjoy it, after a little 
while, in peace. If those who oppose us cannot 
change us and will not consent to go with us, they 
will generally end by letting us alone. And, with 


IN VANITY FAIR. 


279 


a dim conviction of this truth, Margery turned to 
her brother. 

Clifford/^ she said, pleasantly, I do not think 
that old Sabbath law was ever set aside. I am 
sure, from the teachings of the New Testament, 
that Christ always observed the Sabbath.’^ 

^^But our Sunday isn^t the Jewish Sabbath,^^ 
Efl&e objected. 

“ I know it ; but the substitution of oiJe day for 
another does not change the principle of the com- 
mandment, that a seventh of our time shall be 
holy unto the Lord.^^ 

But doesn^t St. Paul say something about one 
day above another, and all days alike V’ Effie 
asked. I am not very well versed in the Bible,^^ 
she added, with a laugh — as if her ignorance was 
something she found very amusing — but I know 
I have heard something like that read, sometimes, 
when I have been to church.’^ 

^ One man esteemeth one day above another : 
another esteemeth every day alikej Margery 
slowly repeated. Yes ; St. Paul does say that. 
But certainly St. Pauf never meant to imply that 
we might secularize every day of the week. 
Rather he would have insisted that all the days 
should be holy-days, all consecrated to Christ’s 
use and service, as in St. Paul’s case they always 
were.” 

There was a short silence ; even those frivolous 


280 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


and thoughtless young people could not deny the 
truth of Margery^s last words. But that truth was 
not an agreeable one for them to consider ; the 
contrast between their days and St. PauFs was 
altogether too great for conscience to be satisfied 
with it. And so, to escape from her self-accusa- 
tions, Laura hastened to say, Do you really think, 
Margery, that we ought to keep that fourth' com- 
mandment just as it reads 

^^Not the letter, perhaps, but the principle,^’ 
Margery said, firmly. That, surely, is binding 
yet.'' 

Well, you are bigoted and narrow," Clilford 
said, with bitter emphasis. So you would have 
no work done on the Sabbath ?" 

Only works of necessity and love, Clifford." 

And who, pray, is to judge of what is neces- 
sary ?" Effie asked, impatiently. 

I believe the Christian, who really wants to do 
God's will, will have little trouble in judging and 
deciding for himself." 

Of course," Mr. Stevenson said, you would 
not read Sunday papers ?" 

On the Sabbath ? No." 

Nor take pleasure-drives on Sunday ?" 

^^No." 

^^Nor read novels ?" chimed in Laura. 

^^No." 

You used to write letters on Sunday, though," 


IN VANITY FAIN. 


281 


Laura said, accusingly, I remember your Sun- 
days at Quantuck/^ 

I do not write them now on Sunday,^^ Mar- 
gery quietly answered. 

^^Well, Margery, Clifford said, rudely, 
don’t know whether you are trying to pose as a 
saint, or whether you really are such a consum- 
mate idiot as to believe what you say. You will 
find very few to sympathize with you in your nar- 
row opinions, I can tell you that for your comfort ; 
and if you really want to practice them in peace, 

I am afraid you will have to go out of the world, 
for most people in this enlightened nineteenth cen- 
tury have outgrown the superstitions to which 
you are so determined to cling. And really,” — 
and Clifford looked appealingly at Laura and Mr. 
Stevenson, — I do not understand how a sister 
of mine can be such a simpleton.” 

Oh, Vanity Fair, Vanity Fair ! Still, as in the 
days of wise, old John Bunyan, is it true that the 
pilgrims who go through you are clothed with 
such kind of raiment as is diverse from the rai- 
ment of any who trade in the fair.” And still 
of you is it true that few who trade in your midst 
can understand the pilgrim’s speech, for they 
naturally speak the language of Canaan.” 

Margery did not attempt to prolong the conver- 
sation ; many similar ones had preceded it, and • 

many equally trying followed it. Often, as the 
24 * 


282 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


days went by, she found herself hard-pressed and 
sorely troubled, and sighed for the wings of a dove 
as well as for the spirit of one. 

Often, when she could without seeming unkind, 
would she leave Laura in the midst of her cambric, 
and silk, and jeweled satisfactions,’^ and run off 
by herself, to find, as she aptly expressed it, 

something real.” 

She was standing one morning in the Lenox Li- 
brary before the exquisite statue of the Sleeping 
Child,” when a voice behind her said, — 

How strangely some old nursery tales appeal 
to the imagination and touch the heart ! I can 
remember crying over the babes in the wood when 
I was a child, and first heard their sad story in 
rhyme ; and now, that I look at them in marble, 
it almost seems as if they had really lived, and I 
had really known and loved them.” 

With a quick impulse, Margery turned to see 
the speaker. Two ladles were standing near her 
looking at Crawford’s beautiful Babes in the 
Wood,” and with one swift glance Margery 
knew them. 

^^Kathie, Mrs. MacMillan,” she cried in low, 
but joyous tones as she sprang to them. 

Margery, you precious child,” Miss Wood- 
ward said, in a voice as glad as Margery’s, ^^is it 
really you or only your wraith ?” 

It’s really, really me,” Margery said, as, with 


IN VANITY FAIR, 


283 


a glad disregard of both grammar and fashionable 
etiquette, she almost smothered Miss Woodward 
and Mrs. MacMillan with kisses, and laughed and 
sobbed together, it^s really me/^ 

Yes, I am sure it is Margery,^^ Mrs. MacMil- 
lan said, tenderly. My dear, let me look at you. 
How do you do? You were not well when I saw 
you last in Saratoga.^^ 

Oh, that was long ago,’^ Margery said, gayly. 

I am well now and happy, I cannot tell you how 
happy, at seeing you agaiii.^^ 

^^Here is some one else I hope you will be glad 
to see,’^ Mrs. MacMillan said, as, at that moment, 
a gentleman entered the hall and came quickly 
towards them. 

I have been looking for you everywhere,’^ he 
said, in a pleasant voice Margery so well remem- 
bered. But the next second, as he recognized her, 
his face and tone changed. 

Miss Margery ! ” he exclaimed ; and though 
Margery had few words at her command, and 
dared not raise her eyes because of the happy tears 
that were blinding them, Mrs. MacMillan, as she 
watched her, had good reason to feel satisfied that 
she was glad to see him. It was a gladness, how- 
ever, that helped to make two at least of the party 
very quiet, and perhaps it was fortunate for all 
that Miss Kathie was present, and bright and sun- 
shiny as of old. 


284 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


Archibald/^ she said, laughingly, how very 
appropriate your first words were! Margery, if 
ever a child was looked for everywhere, I believe 
you have been. And when we could not find you 
in anything else, we have made pictures, and even 
flowers, furnish likenesses of you.^^ 

I hope they were truthful/^ Margery managed 
to say. 

As far as they went,^^ Mrs. MacMillan pleas- 
antly answered. And then, with a smile, she asked, 
Haven’t we gone far enough for this morning ? 
I, at least, am very w^ell satisfied with the result 
of my sight-seeing to-day. And as we have a 
great deal to tell and ask Margery, suppose we go 
back to the hotel and take her with us.” 

There was but one answer to Mrs. MacMillan’s 
proposal, and for the remainder of that day Mar- 
gery was as happy as the society and sympathy of 
congenial friends could make her. 


CHAPTER XVL 


IN THE PLAIN CALLED EASE. 

“ Then Christian and Hopeful outwent them again, and went 
till they came at a delicate plain, called Ease, where they went 
with much content; but that plain was but narrow, so they 
were quickly got over it.” — Pilgrim’s Progress. 

^HERE remained but two or three days now 
before Laura’s marriage, and until that impor- 
tant event was passed Margery found it impossible 
to see much of her friends, who had but just 
returned from Europe and were only stopping for 
a short time in the city. 

But the wedding-day came at last. The trous- 
seau, of the most approved style and make, was 
completed ; the presents were all received and 
prized— according to their costliness ; the wed- 
ding-bell of sweetest and loveliest flowers was 
hung, and in the prescribed dress of satin, and 
lace, and orange blossoms, Laura Stanton stood 
beneath it while the few solemn words were spoken 
that made her Clifford Hamilton’s wife. It was a 
beautiful wedding ; so, at least, said all her friends. 

To Margery, who knew how little influence for 

( 285 ) 


286 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


good either Laura or Clifford would ever exert on 
each other, it was a sorrowful affair, and she was 
glad when it was over. 

She expected to return home the next day ; that 
•evening she had promised to spend with her 
friends, and in the early dusk, as soon as the 
wedding reception was over and she could get 
away from Mrs. Stanton^s, she hastened to them. 

“ I was almost afraid you would not be able to 
come, Margery,^^ Miss Kathie said, as she affection- 
ately welcomed her. 

'^Not come,^^ Margery exclaimed; why, I have 
lived on the thought of coming all day. 1 wanted,^^ 
she said with a sigh, as she dropped wearily into 
a chair, I wanted to get where things were 
real.’^ 

And so you do not consider weddings realities. 
Miss Margery,^^ Mr. MacMillan said, in an 
amused tone, as he came forward from a recess that 
had concealed him from her sight, and joined the 
little group around the fire. 

They are almost too real, sometimes,^^ she an- 
swered, sadly ; and, perceiving that the subject was 
a painful one, Mr. MacMillan thoughtfully 
changed it, and, with equal kindness, and tact, 
exerted himself to remove her depression. 

Mother,^^ he asked soon, where is Miss Mar- 
gery’s box ?” 

My box !” Margery said, in surprise. I did 


IN THE PLAIN CALLED EASE, 


287 


not know you had a box belonging to me, Mrs. 
MacMillan.^^ 

Wait until you see it before you disclaim its 
ownership/^ Mr. MacMillan smilingly advised, 
while Mrs. MacMillan went into an adjoining 
room, and presently returned with a large and 
beautiful box, composed of various kinds of choice 
woods. 

Take it, Archie ; it is rather heavy,^^ she said. 

With a smile Mr. MacMillan obeyed, and placed 
the mysterious box on a little table before Margery. 

Open it, if you please,’^ he said ; but Mar- 
gery only gazed at it with astonished eyes. 

^^Are you afraid of it?” Miss Kathie asked. 

My dear, it does, I must confess, contain a little 
of almost everything; but I think I can truth- 
fully assure you that there is no dynamite in it.” 

^^And I can assure you,” Mr. MacMillan said, 
playfully, ^Hhat it is not in any respect like Pan- 
dora’s box. Miss Margery. Hope, it is true, — the 
hope of some day seeing you again, — had a good 
deal to do with its packing. But we never buried 
that hope in it ; and I do not believe anything that 
can cause you trouble will be found among its 
contents.” 

Slowly Margery removed the cover, while Mrs. 
MacMillan came and stood beside her. 

It is your box, my dear,” she said, kindly. 
hardly know with whom the thought first origin- 


288 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


ated, but while we were all abroad together, one 
day, when we were talking of you, we decided 
that we would have a Margery box, and that in it 
should go every pretty little thing that we found 
and fancied might please the little friend we had 
left at home. Professor and Mrs. Carter contrib- 
uted, and Mr. Woodward, and even Mr. Trinot, 
who was also with us for a short time. It was a 
great pleasure to prepare it for you, and now, I 
trust, my dear, you will find it only a pleasure to 
examine it.^^ 

Just what she found its examination, Margery 
did not try to express in words. But as, one by 
one, she removed the gifts that showed how con- 
stantly and fondly she had been remembered — 
even while she had feared that she was quite for- 
gotten — her heart ’grew very full; and if she did 
not shed tears during her examination, it was only 
because Mr. MacMillan and Miss Kathie stood by 
and would not let her. 

There was, as Miss Kathie said, a little of 
almost everything in that box. Some of the gifts 
were costly, and others very simple and inexpen- 
sive, but all were marked by a delicate taste and 
affectionate thoughtfulness. Thei^ were photo- 
graphs and views in abundance, there were lovely 
specimens of Swiss carvings, there was an exquis- 
ite lace scarf from Brussels, and many lovely me- 
mentos that seemed, either directly or indirectly, to 


IN THE PLAIN CALLED EASE, 


289 


suggest the history of the places where they were 
purchased. And at the bottom of the box there 
was a plain, flat book, containing pressed leaves 
and flowers from the edelweiss Mrs. MacMillan 
had gathered in a dangerous Alpine pass, to the 
violets, picked in a sheltered English garden. 

All were beautiful, and all told the same sweet 
story of love and of kind consideration of her 
tastes and fancies. 

^^How kind, how very kind, you all were!’’ she 
said at last, when her examination for that even- 
ing Avas over. If I had known about this pre- 
cious box, I should never have grieved — as I so 
often did — for fear you would forget me.” 

^^You did your best to make us forget you,” 
Miss Kathie said, in a voice at once playful and 
reproachful. Margery, why did you never write 
to us?” 

^‘1 could not,” Margery said, briefly. 

^^In just what did that ^ could not’ consist?” 
Miss Kathie asked, with a secret determination to 
make Margery tell the whole truth. 

Margery hesitated ; but she was too loyal to her 
father to tell the whole, and so she only said, — 
There Avas a reason, Kathie. It almost broke 
my heart not to write, but I — could not help it.” 

^^And does that reason still exist?” Mr. Mac- 
Millan asked, with a little anxiety in his tone. 

‘^Oh, no, no,” Margery said, joyfully, ^‘for — I 


290 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


haven’t told you before, but I am so glad and 
thankful to tell you now — father has become a 
Christian.” 

Then your troubles are over,” Miss Kathie said, 
gently. And Mrs. MacMillan whispered, as she 
bent and kissed Margery’s fair, young brow, The 
dear Lord is better to us than, in our faithlessness, 
we sometimes dare to believe he can be ; is he not, 
dear child ? He has given you one sure and precious 
proof that he does hear and answer prayer. Learn 
from it, my dear, never to be afraid to plead and 
trust his promises.” 

Margery,” Miss Kathie said soon, ^^when we 
were in London we saw George MacDonald’s won- 
derful panorama of the Pilgrim’s Progress. It did 
not satisfy us — quite. I do not suppose any picto- 
rial representation of that precious old story could 
fully satisfy ; but still it was very impressive, and 
at almost every step we were reminded of you. 
We used to wonder, some of us” — and Miss 
Kathie glanced smilingly at Mr. MacMillan, — 
^^how far along you were, and I am wondering 
now. Where are you, Margery?” 

Margery’s smile was very sweet, yet touched 
with many memories she could not trust herself to 
speak of. 

^^Ah !” she said, softly; have passed through 
a great deal since I saw you, Kathie.” 

She looked as if that were true as she sat there 


IN THE PLAIN CALLED EASE. 


291 


in the soft, bright light; but whatever her expe- 
rience had been, the friends who were watching 
her thoughtful face felt satisfied that it had done 
her no harm ; and with a kind smile, Mr. Mac- 
Millan said, — 

Just at present Miss Margery looks as if she 
was resting in the delicate plain called Ease. And 
I hope,^^ he added gently, hope she may 
long remain there.^^ 

Yet that plain was but narrow, so the pilgrims 
were ^quickly got over it,^^^ Mrs. MacMillan said, 
musingly. 

Yes,^^ Mr. MacMillan answered, in a thought- 
ful voice; ^^aud it is well, perhaps, for those who 
own themselves pilgrims, that it is narrow. If 
ease was always our portion here, we might shrink 
with bitter dread from going onward to the city. 
How vividly and wonderfully John Bunyan, 
through his prison bars, saw the panorama of life 
unfold and caught its meaning ! I often feel as if 
every scene in his pilgrim’s course must have been 
shown him in answer to prayer. And if — beside 
the Bible — there was ever an inspired book in the 
world, I believe it is the Pilgrim’s Progress.” 

hope you won’t make a mistake and take 
your texts from it sometimes,” Miss Kathie said, 
playfully. 

hope not, also,” he said, with a smile; ^^but 
still I might do worse,” he added, gravely. ^^Bet- 


292 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


ter, far better, will it be for me to teach my people 
to reverence the man 

* Whose pilgrim marks the road 
And guides the progress of the soul to God/ 

than to introduce them to the views and theories 
of many a modern Bible commentator/^ 

Miss Kathie smiled. I will trust you to teach 
the truth,^^ she said; and then, laying her hand 
lightly on Margery\s hair, she asked, — 

Margery, do you know what Archibald is 
going to do now 

Margery answered with a little, negative shake 
of her head. 

‘^And you are not a bit curious, I suppose 
Is curiosity a virtue Margery asked, play- 
fully; because if it is, I will own that I am 
curious — very curious.^’ 

^^True, little daughter of mother Eve,^^ Miss 
Kathie said ; for that frank confession you shall 
be suitably rewarded. Know, then, that the Rev. 
Archibald MacMillan has been called to his home 
church in Bellefield, and has accepted.^^ 

That is my church,^^ Margery said, tenderly ; 

I still belong there.^^ 

hope you will always belong there, Mrs. 
MacMillan said, as her eyes turned fondly to the 
young girl’s face. This arrangement is a great 
joy to me,” she quietly proceeded to explain. 


IN THE PLAIN CALLED EASE, 


293 


^^When Mr. Woodward decided, on account of 
his wife^s health, to go to Colorado, the church 
was ofiPered to Archie, and as he no longer has 
other duties that prevent, he has accepted it. 
Aren^t you glad for me 

^Wery, very glad,’^ Margery said, with a thrill 
in her voice that reminded one of joy-bells. Oh, 
Mr. MacMillan, how much I wish I could hear 
you preach 

He smiled. I have favored you with a good 
many sermons in by-gone days, if my memory is 
not at fault,” he said, and I have indeed cause 
to feel flattered if you still want more. Suppose 
you come and hear my first sermon in my own 
church r 

Though he spoke lightly, he was none the less 
in earnest, and Mrs. MacMillan and Miss Kathie 
warmly seconded his proposal. But Margery 
could not accede to it. 

I have been too long from my father already,” 
she insisted. Where,” she asked in a moment, 
as if the thought of her duty to her father re- 
minded her of him, where is Mr. MacMillan’s 
uncle ?” 

^^At rest,” Mrs. MacMillan softly answered. 

We left him in the beautiful English cemetery 
at Florence, peacefully awaiting a glorious resur- 
rection,” 

You must be very glad you went with him 
25 * 


294 


ALONG THE OLD LOAD. 


now/^ Margery said, as Miss Kathie left the room 
and Mrs. MacMillan returned to her seat near the 
fire, and left Mr. MacMillan standing alone beside 
her. 

Yes, always glad,^^ he answered. It did in- 
volve a painful sacrifice, — more painful than I 
can tell you of now, — but I, too, have passed 
through a great deal since we were together in 
Pine Clumps. And I have learned these precious 
lessons — that, when God appoints a duty, its re- 
ward is sure; and where he sends his servants, he 
always sends his angel before them. I am glad 
and thankful that I went with my uncle ; and just 
as truly. Miss Margery, I am glad, very glad, to 
be once more at home.^^ 

I am glad, too,^^ Margery said, fi’ankly. I 
should not be in the plain called ^ Ease ^ to-night 
if Miss Kathie and Mrs. MacMillan and yourself 
were three thousand miles away. Friends have a 
great deal to do with that plaints pleasantness, I 
think, Mr. MacMillan.^’ 

Yes, a great deal,^^ he smilingly answered her. 
And then, after a moment’s silence, he asked, Do 
you know how much of that plain’s beauty and 
delight — for us — depends upon you. Miss Mar- 
geiy?” 

She looked at him with humble, innocent eyes. 

No,” she said, truthfully ; I do not know.” 
What want of knowledge are you bewailing 


IN THE PLAIN CALLED EASE, 


295 


now Miss Kathie asked, playfully, as she just 
then came back to them. Whatever it is, it is 
too late for you to enlighten her to-night, Archi- 
bald; for here is Mrs. Stanton’s carriage and 
maid, also, after Miss Hamilton.” 

Then I must go at once,” Margery said, in a 
regretful voice ; and I am going home early to- 
morrow morning with mother, so I shall not see 
you again. But there is one comfort,” she con- 
tinued, more cheerfully, I can write now, and 
my letters won’t be at all like angels’ visits, 
Kathie ; for they will be both numerous and fre- 
quent.” 

“We will welcome all the letters,” Mrs. Mac- 
Millan promised. And Mr. MacMillan, as he 
went with Margery to the carriage, said : “ I 
shall not say good-by now. Miss Margery; for if 
I cannot see you to-morrow, I will find my way 
out to your home before I leave the city. May I ?” 

“ Oh, yes,” Margery said, with eager gladness ; 
“and if you can, come in the afternoon, after 
three, Mr. MacMillan ; for father will be at home 
then, and he will be very glad to see you.” 

“ I shall be happy to meet your father,” Mr. 
MacMillan quietly answered, and, with a smile, 
he closed the carriage-door and watched the 
father’s daughter drive away, 


CHAPTER XVII. 


BY THE HILL CALLED LUCEE. 

“Now, at the farther side of that plain was a little hill, 
called Lucre, and in that hill a silver mine. . . . Then I saw 
in my dream, that a little off the road, over against the silver 
mine, stood Demas, . . . who said to Christian and his fellow, 
... * Here is a silver mine, and some digging in it for treasure ; 
if you will come, with a little pains, you may richly provide for 
yourselves.^ ” — Pilgrim's Progress, 


EITHER on the next day, nor the day after 



did Margery see Mr. MacMillan again. But 
on the third day, instead of the call she was so 
gladly anticipating, there came a brief note. 

^^My dear Miss Margery,^^ it read : 

“ I regret exceedingly that I am obliged to write this 
note and bid you good-by with my pen instead of with 
my voice, as I had hoped to do. But all our plans have 
been suddenly and sorrowfully changed by the serious 
illness of Professor Carter, We are summoned to him 
and must go at once. 

“ I am very sorry that in my first letter to you I should 
be compelled to pain you, as I know my tidings about 
Professor Carter cannot fail to de* ^nt do not think of 
this intelligence as ‘bad news,^ Miss Margery. We will 
pray and trust that our dear friend may be spared to us ; 


(29G) 


BY THE HILL CALLED LUCRE. 


297 


but if our prayers — for some wise and tender reason — 
cannot be granted, we will only remember that the 
holiday-time has come, and that the Father’s child, after 
long, weary years at school, has gone with a glad heart 
home. 

My mother and Kathie send many tender farewell 
messages. I need not repeat them ; by your own 
thoughts and emotions I know you will be able to un- 
derstand theirs. If possible, I hope to see you again 
soon. Until then. Miss Margery, may the memory of 
the friends who would gladly shield you from all life’s 
sorrows, and the more precious memory of him who 
sends no sorrow that he cannot soothe, keep you abiding 
in peace in the ‘ delicate plain, called Ease.’ 

Your true friend, 

^‘Archibald MacMillan.” 

Margery’s face grew very sad as she read that 
little note, and many tears fell on it ; for her dis- 
appointment was great, and her love for Professor 
Carter made her feel as if a new sorrow was al- 
ready folding its dark wings about her heart. 

She did not brood over her disappointed hopes 
and mournful fears long. Resolutely she brushed 
the troublesome tears away, dropped the little note 
into the beautiful box, already so fragrant with 
many lovely memories, and then, with patient 
faith, devoted herself to making her home as sun- 
shiny and cheerful as she could. 

It was not a very easy task ; for Mrs. Hamil- 
ton had returned home exhausted from the gayety 
and dissipation of her city visit, and was in a 


298 


ALONG THE OLD MOAD. 


weak, nervous state, that rendered her more peev- 
ish and unreasonable than usual. She fretted and 
worried about everything. If Margery sang, she 
reproached her with having no consideration for 
her nerves ; and if the weary girl ever looked sad, 
she complained that she made no effort to enter- 
tain and amuse her. 

^^One must be very strong to avoid being 
troubled by troublesome things,^^ says a wise old 
English preacher, and Margery laid no claim to 
being strong; but she knew whose grace was suf- 
ficient for her, and in the all-sufficiency of Christ 
she found enough for all her needs. 

So the winter days went slowly and rather sadly 
by, until Clifford and Laura returned from their 
wedding journey and came home for a visit. Their 
coming aroused and cheered Mrs. Hamilton, but 
it brought fresh annoyances to Margery. Clifford 
and Laura were very gay ; a large circle of young 
and fashionable acquaintances gathered around 
them, and, among others, Mr. Stevenson was a 
regular and, indeed, a daily visitor. Margery 
would have gladly avoided seeing him, but Mrs. 
Hamilton would not allow her to do so. 

She considered Mr. Stevenson a friend, she said, 
and Margery should not insult him in her house 
and presence. 

And so, to please her mother, Margery was 
obliged to receive him when he called, and forced 


BY THE HILL CALLED LUCRE, 


299 


to listen, patiently as she could, to the empty, 
common-place remarks and frivolous comments on 
society that with him passed for conversation. 
She gave him no encouragement, and refused his 
attentions always when she could, but, for some 
reason, he persisted in annoying her with them. 

Life did not look very bright to Margery in 
those days. It is a hard trial to be obliged to live 
in what Helps calls ^^an atmosphere of uncon- 
geniality and, apart from her father, there was 
no one, in Margery’s home, who loved the things 
that she loved, or sympathized in any of her tastes 
and favorite pursuits. But if that winter was a 
hard and trying one for Margery, it was likewise 
a hard and trying one for many other people. 

Business, as Mr. Hamilton occasionally re- 
marked, was very dull. In many homes the hus- 
bands and fathers looked care-worn and anxious, 
and almost every day the papers reported the sus- 
pension of well-known business firms and the 
failure of men who had long been supposed to 
possess almost unlimited wealth. 

In a vague way — much as if such troubles be- 
longed to another sphere, and could never in any 
way affect them — Mrs. Hamilton and Margery 
were conscious of these financial difficulties. That 
they could, in the slightest degree, trouble or em- 
barrass Mr. Hamilton’s business, they never sus- 
pected. Margery noticed that her father was more 


300 


ALONG THE OLD BOAD. 


silent than usual, and often irritable and nervous, 
and feared that he was not well; and, Mrs. Hamil- 
ton laughingly remarked, that she believed her hus- 
band was growing miserly as he grew old, for once 
or twice when she had asked him for money, he 
had fretfully told her that he did not possess a gold 
mine. That all these signs were indications of 
serious business trouble they never dreamed, until 
one afternoon, late in the winter, Mr. Hamilton 
came home at an earlier hour than usual, and threw 
himself with a groan on the sofa in his wife’s 
room. 

What is the matter ?” Mrs. Hamilton asked, 
carelessly, as she looked up from her embroidery. 
^^You are home earlier than usual to-night. 
Aren’t you well ?” 

Matter ?” Mr. Hamilton answered, in an ex- 
cited voice, there is enough the matter, I can 
assure you. Well? Yes, I am as well as a man 
can be, who has been on the verge of purgatory 
for weeks, and who is now fairly in it.” 

Mrs. Hamilton dropped the needle she had just 
threaded, and gazed at her husband in blank aston- 
ishment. 

What — do you — mean ?” she asked, slowly. 

^^Mean?” Mr. Hamilton exclaimed, quickly. 

You will soon know what I mean.” But the 
next moment, as he looked at his wife and remem- 
bered how perfectly unconscious she was of his 


BY THE HILL CALLED LUCRE, 


301 


trouble, his voice changed. I am very sorry to 
tell you/^ he said, with a deep sigh, but you 
must be told soon, and you had better hear it 
from me than from strangers. I am in great 
trouble. I have been struggling for weeks to get 
through these hard times without failing, but the 
crash has come to-day, and to-morrow my failure 
will be publicly announced.^^ And, with another 
weary sigh, Mr. Hamilton threw himself back on 
the sofa, from which, in his excitement, he had 
arisen. 

^^What! have you failed?’^ Mrs. Hamilton 
cried, in a voice that told, better than words, how 
perfectly impossible she had always supposed it 
would be for him to do so; ^^it isn’t possible! 
What made you ? ” 

very natural cause,” Mr. Hamilton said, 
with a touch of sarcasm in his tone; simply the 
want of money.” 

Mrs. Hamilton considered that stern fact in 
silence for a few moments. What are you 
going to do?” she asked soon in an anxious 
voice that showed she was beginning to compre- 
hend the situation ; why don’t you try to raise 
the money — somehow ? ” 

Why don’t I try to raise it ? ” Mr. Hamilton 
repeated wearily. It is just like a woman to 
ask that question, — as if I had not made every 
possible and impossible effort in my power to 
20 


302 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


raise it — . My dear, I wish you would answer 
your own question. How would you advise me 
to raise the money, hey? By whistling, as they 
are said to raise the wind sometimes in a calm on 
the water ? 

Mrs. Hamilton wisely ignored that contempt- 
uous question; but she said in a moment : Why 
don^t you apply to some of your business friends 
for help?^^ 

Simply because there isn’t much friendship 
in business,” Mr. Hamilton answered, with some 
bitterness. ^^When a man is sinking, there are 
very few who are willing to hold him up, at the 
risk of sinking themselves.” 

There is Mr. Stevenson,” Mrs. Hamilton sug- 
gested soon ; he is n’t a business man ; but he 
certainly is what you call a great capitalist, 
is n’t he ? ” 

Stevenson? Yes; thanks to his grandfather’s 
and father’s industry, he is almost a money-king ; 
but I do not like to apply to him,” Mr. Hamilton 
added soberly. 

There are more reasons why you should, than 
why you should not,” Mrs. Hamilton replied, 
meaningly. How do you suppose he will feel 
when it is noised abroad that you have failed ? ” 

No worse than some others, I imagine,” Mr. 
Hamilton said gloomily. 

^^Is it really a hopeless failure?” Mrs. Hamil- 


BY THE HILL CALLED LUCRE, 


303 


ton inquired now. Could n’t you, with such 
help as Mr. Stevenson would be able to give you, 
go on with your business ? ” 

Mr. Hamilton considered that question a while. 
^^Yes,” he said then; ^^if Mr. Stevenson would 
help me, I could go on.” 

Then,” Mrs. Hamilton said, with great decis- 
ion, I think that for my sake — ^to say nothing 
of any one else — ^you ought to apply to him.” 

With much secret reluctance, but with the con- 
viction that it was his last resort, Mr. Hamilton 
did finally decide to ask Mr. Stevenson for assist- 
ance; and Mr. Stevenson — to do him justice — 
responded cheerfully and generously to his appli- 
cation. 

The greater part of Mr. Hamilton’s property 
was swept away ; but he was enabled to satisfy 
his creditors, and go on with his business with 
the proud satisfaction of knowing that no man 
had lost or suffered through him. 

And that, Margery said joyfully, was something 
to be so thankful for that it did not matter at all 
if they were poorer. 

I do not mind poverty, mother,” she said, one 
day, when Mrs. Hamilton was lamenting some 
new economy that Mr. Hamilton deemed neces- 
sary in their domestic affairs. We can easily 
discharge a servant or two and be none the less 
comfortable; but I do not think I ever could 


304 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


survive disgrace, or the consciousness that those I 
loved were dishonorable/^ 

You are talking like a sentimental school- 
girl/^ Mrs. Hamilton said impatiently. You 
know very little about poverty. It is a most 
fruitful source of misery and discomfort in this 
world, I can tell you.^^ 

I do not believe it need to be, though, Mar- 
gery insisted, and if it is what God has chosen 
for us, mother, I am sure it must be better for us, 
than the riches he has taken away.^^ 

‘‘ Nonsense,^^ Mrs. Hamilton said, in a severe 
voice, if you cannot talk sensibly, Margery, I 
wish you would not talk at all. You are not 
reduced to poverty yet, and there is no reason,^^ 
she added, with some emphasis, why you ever 
should be.’^ 

No,’^ Margery answered, cheerfully, it is 
true we are not reduced to poverty, but father’s 
circumstances are certainly greatly changed. I 
know — for he told me so himself last night — that, 
apart from his business, he has very little property 
to depend upon ; and, mother, I think we would 
all be a great deal happier if we would at once 
cheerfully accommodate ourselves to our circum- 
stances. It seems to me that to struggl-e to keep 
up appearances, and seem like rich people, when 
we are only comfortably well otf, is one of the 
hardest and falsest things to do. And I believe 


BY THE HILL CALLED LUCRE. 


305 


it is one of the most useless also, for we deceive 
no one with our affectation of wealth, and, most 
assuredly, we are never deceived ourselves/^ 

Nonsense,^’ Mrs. Hamilton said again, you 
are a very visionary, impractical girl, Margery. 
I consider that we are in duty bound to keep up 
appearances. I am sure I do not know what 
would become of you and your prospects if we 
did not try to do so. Do you know,’^ she asked 
soon, how much your father is indebted to Mr. 
Stevenson 

Yes,^^ Margery answered, father told me. 
Mr. Stevenson has been very kind, and I feel very 
grateful to him.’^ 

Mrs. Hamilton looked pleased. I hope you 
will be ready to thank him suitably then, some- 
time, when he gives you the opportunity,^’ she 
said with meaning. 

A troubled, anxious expression passed over 
Margery’s young face, but Mrs. Hamilton did not 
appear to notice it. 

Margery,’' she said, I want to talk very 
seriously to you. There are certain questions that 
I believe in leaving young girls to decide for 
themselves — of course. Still I think the young 
should always accept and follow the advice of 
their parents and friends, who are older than 
they are, and know much more about the world 
and its requirements — You think so, too, do 
26* u 


306 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


you not?’^ And Mrs. Hamilton v/aited for an 
answer. 

Yes, mother, I suppose so — 

Your answer did not require that ^ suppose,^ 
Mrs. Hamilton proceeded. Well, now, Margery, 
listen to me. You know your father^s business 
affairs very w^ell it appears ; you know that you 
are no longer an heiress, but that if anything were 
to incapacitate your father for business to-morrow 
you would be a poor girl, and really obliged to 
labor for your own support. And, however in 
your ignorance you may fancy it, Margery, I can 
tell you, that a working-woman’s lot in life is full 
of trials and hardships, and it is painful, inex- 
pressibly painful to me, to think that such a fate 
may ever befall you.” 

Then do not think of it, mother,” Margery 
said gently. 

I must think of it, because I want to prevent 
it,” Mrs. Hamilton replied with some warmth. 

Margery I would not— of course — want you, in 
deciding upon one of the most important events 
in your life — ^you understand what I mean — to be 
influenced solely by money. But it is natural for 
a mother to want to see her daughter well provided 
for, and, Margery, I believe a golden opportunity 
will soon be offered to you, and when it is I trust 
you will be sensible, and act with prudence and 
discretion.” 


BY THE HILL CALLED LUCRE, 


307 


Mother/^ Margery began in a quick, pained 
voice, mother, I am not afraid to be a poor girl, 
I am only afraid of — 

^^Stop,^’ Mrs. Hamilton said composedly. 
‘^This is not a subject to argue, Margery. You 
know my wishes now. I have advised you for 
your own good and I have no more to say. 
Besides,^^ she added, as she glanced at the clock, 
^4tis almost dinner time and you ought to dress. 
You know^’ — with a little stress on the words — 
^^you know, Mr. Stevenson dines herfe to-night.’^ 

Mrs. Hamilton’s information proved correct. 
Mr. Stevenson did dine with them that night, and 
after dinner, by a fortunate combination of 
circumstances — as Mrs. Hamilton and Laura 
thought at the time — he was left alone with Mar- 
gery in the library. 

What passed in that interview Margery never 
told but in a few days Mr. Stevenson took Laura 
into his confidence, and she at once began with 
great earnestness to fight her cousin’s battle for him. 

Margery,” she said, think it was perfectly 
outrageous for you to treat Rich, as you did the 
other evening. He has told me all about it, poor 
fellow, and now I am going to talk to you serious- 
ly about your folly.” 

Better not, Laura,” Margery said quietly, ^fit 
is all past and over now, fortunately, and why 
should you trouble yourself about it?” 


308 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


^^Why? well — because — for one reason, I do 
not like to see you losing such a grand opportunity 
to do well for yourself. You are not a rich girl 
any longer, and you are a very foolish one to 
throw away such a chance of securing wealth and 
position.’^ 

Margery sighed. ^^It is useless for us to 
discuss this subject, Laura,^^ she said, gently, ^^for 
we shall never agree.’^ 

We will disagree then. Tell me why did you 
not accept Kichard Stevenson 

I would rather not tell you, Laura.^^ 

^^But you ought to tell me. You have pained 
and disappointed us all. You ought to give us 
the satisfaction of knowing your reasons, if you 
have any. Why did you do so, Margery 

Because, Margery answered, now in a quiet, 
serious voice, because, Laura, grateful as I am to 
Mr. Stevenson for his kindness to my father, I do 
not love him, and he could never make me love 
him. He is not a Christian, he is not even a true 
gentleman. He has spent so much of his time in 
studying etiquette, and all the little requirements 
of fashionable society, that he has had none left 
to devote to nobler and more serious pursuits. 
And then^^ — and Margery^s voice was sad in its 
gravity now — am sorry to say it, but I know 
that he not only indulges in wine, but indulges 
very freely. What safety and happiness, Laura, 


BF THE HILL CALLED LUCRE, 


309 


can a woman have who is married to such a 
man 

should like/^ Laura said, sarcastically, 
should like to know what the gratitude you boast 
of amounts to?^^ 

^<My gratitude/’ Margery said, gently. ^^It 
will make me pray for him, and wish him well all 
my life, Laura. It cannot do more.” 

Laura moved uneasily in her luxurious chair. 

Well,” she said, presently, as she arose to leave 
the room, ^4t is throwing words away to try to 
reason with you. I do think you are the most 
absurd girl I ever knew” — an opinion that ClifiPord 
and his mother fully endorsed. 

For a little while they hoped that Margery 
would change her mind, but that hope was a futile 
one, and they were soon forced to abandon it. 

In a few weeks Mr. Stevenson sailed for Europe, 
and before many months elapsed they heard of his 
engagement to a handsome society belle, and Mar- 
gery, to her own great comfort, never met him 
again. 

Margery, however, was not the first young 
Christian whom the world has sought to allure 
with its brilliant offers of wealth and social posi- 
tion, and she will not be the last. The silver 
mine in the hill called lucre, is as real to-day as 
it was, when long ago, Demas called to Christian 
and Hopeful ^^to turn aside” as they went by, 


310 ‘ 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


and with a little pains richly provide for them- 
selves/' The temptation to obey that call is 
as strong — it may be even stronger — to-day than 
it was then. And still the only safe answer for 
all such tempted ones must be that of the pilgrims ; 

^^We will not stir a step, but still keep on 
our way.’^ 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING. 

“ Then they fell to demolishing Doubting-castle ; and that, 
you know, might with ease be done, since Giant Despair was 
dead/*— Pilgrim's ProgresSf Part IL 

nrpOR several weeks after Mr. and Mrs. Mac- 
Millan reached him Professor Carter con- 
tinued very ill, and the reports Margery received 
of him were sad and discouraging ; but, as the 
spring approached, there came a change for the 
better. Very slowly, but, to the great joy of his 
friends, surely, he gained in health ; and, at last, 
though he might never be a strong man again, his 
physician pronounced him out of danger. The letter 
that brought this cheering information to Margery 
was from Miss Kathie, and it contained a very 
pressing invitation from Professor Carter and his 
wife for her to come and make them a long visit. 
Could she go ? It was in a beautiful Pennsyl- 
vania town, a long distance from her own home, 
that Professor Carter resided, and it was with 
much uncertainty that Margery carried the letter 

( 311 ) 


312 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


to her father ; but his consent was most cheerfully 
given. 

It will be a pleasant change for you, my little 
girl, he said, kindly, and I have business in 
that direction and will take you there myself/^ 

And so, to Margery’s great satisfaction, the 
train, one lovely spring morning, dropped her at 
Professor Carter’s station, and in a little while 
she was in the midst of her kind friends, laughing 
and talking like the happy, untroubled girl she 
really was. 

You are just the tonic uncle John needed,” 
Miss Kathie said, as she noticed how the professor 
brightened under the sunshine Margery seemed to 
have brought with her. I believe I have been 
growing stupid lately, and since Mrs. MacMillan 
and Archibald left us we have been very quiet and 
dull.” 

Miss Kathie did look and seem quieter and 
sadder than of old ; and, after the first day or two 
of her visit, Margery often found herself wonder- 
ing as to the cause of the great change she could 
not help perceiving in her kind friend. That 
there was a cause Margery was sure. In truth, 
she had always known that some cloud had long 
ago shadowed Miss Kathie’s sky and never rolled 
away ; but in just what that cloud consisted Mar- 
gery could not tell. 

There are some troubles that can be confided 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING, 


313 


only to God, and Kathie Woodward’s whole life 
had been one of beautiful obedience to the words 
she had once chosen as her motto : 

** Bury thy sorrow, let others be blest. 

Give them the sunshine. Tell Jesus the rest.” 

But the sadness she had so long and bravely 
hidden in her own heart seemed to be manifesting 
itself now in her outward life, and Margery 
grieved and puzzled over it, and watched for an 
explanation, and most unexpectedly, one day, re- 
ceived it. 

“ Let me see,” Professor Carter said, suddenly, 
one morning while Miss Kathie and Margery were 
sitting near him with their sewing ; let me see. 

It is almost three years. Miss Margery, since I 
gave you your first lesson in natural history, on 
the old beach at Quantuck, isn’t it ?” 

^^Yes,” Margery answered, as she raised her 
bright, interested face from her work and looked 
gratefully at the old man. I’ve never forgotten 
those jelly and star-fishes. Professor Carter,” — 
and her voice was very tender now,— ^^I have 
never forgotten that other lesson either — my first 
Sunday-school lesson in that Quantuck chapel.” 

Professor Carter smiled. You are an apt and 
willing little pupil,” he said. ^^If all my scholars 
had been like you, the record of my life-work 
would be far more satisfactory than it is. It is 
27 


314 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


strange, passing strange/’ he continued in a mo- 
ment, as if thinking aloud, that a word to one 
will sometimes produce such weighty results, while 
words upon words to another are no more 

** Than snowflakes falling in a river, 

One moment seen, then lost forever.’’ 

^^How do you account for it, uncle John?” 
Miss Kathie asked, and* Margery noticed that her 
voice trembled as if, for some cause, she was deep- 
ly touched. 

I cannot account for it,” he answered, gravely. 

Only this I know ; it is not for the want of the 
spirit’s willingness to bless the sowing of every 
good seed. But the birds of the air are many, and 
a willful heart is like granite, and the blessing 
which we do not wish to receive is never forced 
upon us.” 

^^It sometimes seems strange to me,” Miss 
Kathie said, ^^that God does not compel people to 
believe. Christ constrained his disciples to go in- 
to the ship, you remember.” 

^^Yes, — his disciples,” Professor Carter an- 
swered, with the happy light that Margery so 
well remembered illuminating his face ; they be- 
longed to him. They would rather be constrained 
to do his will than left free to do their own. But 
do we anywhere read of his constraining or com- 
pelling the people who followed him to be healed 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING. 


315 


or blessed against their own wishes ? By every 
tender means in his power, by loving words and 
merciful deeds, he sought to draw them to him. 
But he used no force then ; he uses none now. 
Our wills are our own.^^ 

^^^Our wills are ours to make them thine, ^ 
Mrs. Carter, who had a few moments before en- 
tered the room, softly quoted now. I remem- 
ber,^^ she added, hearing Hugh Trinot say, 
that sentence ^ In memoriam^ seemed to him to 
possess little sense and less truth.^^ 

Poor Hugh Professor Carter said, with a 
sigh. If ever a man was determined to shiver 
in the darkness when he might rejoice in the sun- 
shine, Hugh is that man. He prides himself on 
his unbelief. He cherishes it, just as I have some- 
times seen a weed cherished in a garden, until all 
the delicate, rare plants near it were choked by its 
poisonous roots, and overshadowed by its noxious 
leaves.^^ 

A low, quickly-suppressed sob escaped just then 
from Miss Kathie, and as Margery glanced at 
her she was surprised to see that her head was 
bent low over her work, and that tears were fall- 
ing thick and fast upon it. 

Mrs. Carter saw it all, and hastened to say, more 
cheerfully, have felt much encouraged about 
Hugh since Archibald told me that he had owned 
to him that he would gladly part with this world 


316 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


and everything that made it dear, if he could once 
truly say, in the faith of a Christian, — I know that 
my Redeemer liveth/^ 

As if she could endure no more. Miss Kathie 
hurried from the room, and, as he glanced sorrow- 
fully after her. Professor Carter said, — 

^^Hugh has at least renounced the dearest thing 
this world could give him in order to enjoy his 
unbelief. And if he ever does say that he believes, 
there will be no doubt of his sincerity. Well, we 
shall see if his words to Archibald were true. For 
this, at least, is true : when a man really wants — 
more than anything else — to believe, God will 
surely give him the desire of his heart.^^ 

The conversation ceased just there, but to Mar- 
gery it had been a wonderful revelation, and yet, 
after all, her greatest surprise was that she was 
not more surprised. So many little words and 
events came back to her now, that Margery only 
wondered that she had never known before what 
she knew now so well. 

She remembered the earnest words Miss Kathie 
had once spoken in her hearing. I would not 
marry a man who could wrong, or insult, or de- 
spise my own father ; and how is it possible for me 
— if I am truly a Christian — ^to feel less sensitive 
for my heavenly Father’s honor, or to care less, if 
those I love treat him with disrespect ?” 

And Margery well understood now that Kathie 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING, 317 

Woodward had been true to her own convictions 
of right and wrong, and before seeking happiness 
for herself had sought the honor of her God. And 
still, with even this knowledge, Margery wondered a 
little at Miss Woodward’s unusual depression, for 
this, she thought, was no new trial. Long before 
she knew her, Kathie Woodward had made her 
choice, and so, Margery argued, that could scarce- 
ly be the cause of her present sadness. What was 
the cause ? 

Margery’s question was answered in a day or 
two by Mrs. Carter, who told her that Mr. Trinot’s 
business was closely connected with a large house 
in China ; the partner, who had long resided there, 
was soon to return home, and Mr. Trinot had 
decided to go out and take his place. He was to 
go very soon and would probably remain many 
years, and with the prospect of this long separation 
before them, he had made one more last appeal to 
Miss Kathie, only to receive the same sad, but 
firm answer. 

No matter what other women in her place would 
have done; no matter whether her decision was 
wise or unwise when judged by the world’s stand- 
ards, Kathie Woodward remained true to her 
own deep convictions of duty. She would not 
marry a man who was not a Christian. 

The very day after Mrs. Carter had told all this 
to Margery a telegram came from Mr. Trinot. 

27 * 


318 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


He was just about to start on his journey, he 
telegraphed, and would go from New York to 
San Francisco by railroad, and from there, by 
steamer, to Canton. And as he could not see 
them again, he sent his last good-by and best 
wishes to them all. 

None ever knew how Kathie Woodward spent 
the first few hours after the arrival of that tele- 
gram. 

All was over now. If she had hoped for 
another message than this, that hope must now be 
given up. And if she could not understand why 
her many fervent prayers were all denied and left 
unanswered, still she must trust. And she did 
trust. Low at her Saviour’s feet she told her 
sorrow, and in the silence — through her sobs — 
faith heard his answer, What I do, thou knowest 
not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.” And 
resting on that sacred promise, Kathie Woodward 
whispered humbly, ^^Not my will — but thine — be 
done.” And then, once more burying her sorrow, 
she went forth, to be to her friends, as she had 
ever been, their comfort and their blessing. 

With this one exception, of the sadness caused 
by her sympathy for Miss Kathie, Margery’s first 
days at Professor Carter’s were all bright and 
beautiful as the spring sky that smiled above her 
head. 

Mrs. MacMillan had promised soon to visit 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING. 


319 


them, and one lovely May evening she suddenly 
appeared before them. 

“Did you drop from the sunset, sister?’’ Pro- 
fessor Carter asked, as he pointed towards the 
western sky, that was just then unusually brilliant 
in its scarlet and gold. 

“No,” she said softly, as her hand rested on his 
silvery locks; “I have only come to walk a little 
way towards the sunset with you.” 

His face lit up as if some of that sunset light 
had just touched it. 

“ When we reach the sunset,” he said, “ it will 
only be to find that it is just sunrise in another 
land. It may be night here^ but it will be the 
dawn of a glad morning there. When I am gone, 
I want you all to think of that. And now,” he 
said, brightly, before any one could feel sad, “ tell 
us about Archibald.” 

He was well, Mrs. MacMillan answered, and 
had gone to New York on business and would 
visit them on his return. 

“ Did you/’ she asked soon, when Miss Kathie 
for a few moments had left the room ; “ did you 
see the account of the recent shipwreck on the 
Pacific ?” 

No, strange to say, they had not seen it ; and 
with sad interest they listened while Mrs. Mac- 
Millan read to them of the great steamer that, 
while sailing happily over the peaceful ocean, had 


320 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


suddenly been wrapped in flames. She read of the 
self-control of the passengers, and especially of the 
noble heroism of one of them — a young man by 
the name of Trinot — who had ably aided the 
captain in his efforts to maintain order and save 
life, and who, at the final moment, when the last 
boat was already well-filled and there was only 
room for one more, had quietly given up his place 
to another, and saying if there is a God, I will 
trust him now,^^ gone down — as was supposed — 
with the burning steamer. 

It was owing to this sorrowful accident, Mrs. 
MacMillan explained, that Archibald had gone to 
New York. He hoped to get fuller accounts 
there, as the passengers on one of the boats had 
been picked up by a steamer bound for San Fran- 
cisco, and probably some of them, who belonged 
in New York, would soon arrive there. 

Long before Mrs. MacMillan finished her sad 
story Miss Woodward returned. She did not 
lament nor give vent to any passionate, uncon- 
trollable grief. She only said, in a voice so calm 
that those who loved her felt that any outbreak of 
sorrow would have been better : God’s hands are 
very tender, and he is in them.” And then she 
suffered Mrs. MacMillan to lead her to her room and 
put her to bed like a child, and for days it seemed 
as if, from the terrible sinking and utter prostration 
that had come upon her, she would never rise again. 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING. 


321 


It was more than a week since Mrs. MacMil- 
lan’s arrival, and still Mr. MacMillan remained in 
New York. At last, one day a telegram came : 

will be with you to-night. I have found a 
friend, and will bring him with me.” 

Who could that friend be ? 

They did not dare to indulge in any hopes. 
They destroyed the telegram, and only told Kathie 
that Archibald was expected, and then through 
the long day they waited — in the patience that sub- 
missive prayer gave them — for the travelers to come. 

It was in the beautiful, purple twilight of the 
May evening that the carriage returned from the 
station, and Archibald MacMillan sprang out, 
gave one look to the group assembled to meet 
him, and then turned, with tender care, to assist 
his companion, who, weak and trembling, leaned 
heavily upon him. 

Though their eyes were almost blinded by their 
tears, they did not need to ask who he was. The 
sea had given up its dead. Nay — better than 
that — out of God’s great love he had been given 
back to them. With a gladness of heart that 
words could never express they welcomed him, 
and with a joy such as the angels feel in heaven 
they heard his first broken words to Kathie. 

I am willing — at last — to be a Christian. And 
now — I want you — ^to take me — li^e a little child 
— by the hand — and lead me — to Christ.” 


322 


ALOm THE OLD ROAD, 


His story was soon told. It was a wonderful 
one,* When, in that moment of supreme trial, 
he stood upon the burning steamer, with — as it 
seemed — only a choice of death, in one of its two 
most fearful forms, before him, it rushed upon 
him, with overwhelming force — Kathie^s faith is 
true.^^ And then came the sudden resolution to 
trust in Kathie^s God. The next instant — as if 
impelled by some force he could not resist — he 
found himself in the sea. 

All his senses seemed strangely keen. He had 
never felt more self-possessed, never more truly 
the master of himself. 

At the first alarm of fire, before he rushed on 
deck, as if directed by a wisdom not his own, he 
had filled his pockets with some crackers that 
chanced — as he would once have said — to be left 
on a plate in the cabin. 

On the deck of the steamer, in the same mechani- 
cal way, he had noticed a piece of rope and a small 
board. He knew of no use they could be to him, 
but something guided him, and he picked them up. 

Now, as he struggled in the water, he saw a 
small scaffold that had, in some way, got detached 

This story, in all its details, is the exact experience of a 
gentleman who was a passenger on the steamship “ Atlantic * 
when it was lost. The “ Atlantic ” was not destroyed by fire, 
and the gentleman was not a skeptic, but from the time Mr. 
Trinot puts the crackers in his pocket to the moment of his res- 
cue, I have closely followed the truth. 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING. 


323 


from the burning steamer. To grasp it — as it 
drifted near him — and to climb upon it, was his first 
impulse, and it was quickly acted upon. He could 
only stand upon it, and soon the standing — with- 
out any support — grew intolerably tiresome. But 
now the board, that he had — as it seemed at the 
time — so aimlessly picked up, came into service. 
Planting it before him on his scaffold, he leaned 
upon it, and thus through that first long night 
went floating over the waves, unpitied, unwatched 
and unguided, save by the God whom all his life 
he had so recklessly denied. The burning steamer 
soon went down. The boats, with their heavy 
loads of immortal souls, were quickly out of sight, 
and when the morning broke no sign of human 
life was near him. The sky was radiant above 
him ; the sea, in its vast, lonely immensity, was 
all around him, and hopelessly, helplessly— as it 
seemed to him— he drifted on. 

As the long hours of that terrible day went by 
he found himself growing increasingly weak and 
weary ; even the support his board gave proved 
now insufficient, and in bitter despair he was just 
feeling that his struggle for life could not last 
much longer, when, thud ! thud ! against his scaf- 
fold something came knocking. Hardly conscious 
of what he was doing, still led by the Power that 
had directed his every action, he grasped the object 
and found it a large, tin-lined basket. 


324 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


And now the rope, that — for no apparent pur- 
pose — he had saved from the steamer, found its 
work to do. With it he lashed the basket securely 
to his scaffold, and then sitting down in it, was con- 
scious, even in that moment of desolation, of a 
delightful sense of relief and rest. 

And so, through that second lonely night he 
floated in his basket, while the stars looked coldly 
down upon him, the sea seemed to cry hungrily 
around him, and his skep — when at long intervals 
it came to him — was filled vdth home-sick dreams 
and visions, that made his waking seem more bitter 
than death. 

But the second long night passed, and the third 
day dawned. It was a dreary day; the clouds 
that frowned above him were dark and threaten- 
ing, and the wind, as it wailed around him, rough- 
ened the waves, and heightened the peril of his 
enforced voyage. Soon his basket began to fill, 
.and now his last hope failed him. 

I am going — he thought desperately — ^^and 
going I know not where — Oh, if I had but 
Kathie’s God, and Kathie’s faith.^^ 

Even as that despairing cry passed his lips, 
there came, for the second time, that strange 
thud! thud ! as of something knocking against his 
raft. 

He did not care much what it might be, but still 
the Will that guided made him look around. 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING. 


325 


What was it ? Only a tin-can — but its mission 
was to save his life. 

Seizing it, he bailed out his basket, and through 
all that day and the third night, by incessant 
bailing, he kept himself afloat. 

The fourth day broke, and now his exhaustion 
was so great that he well knew he could not 
survive much longer. Wearily — before closing 
his eyes, as he thought he soon must, for the last 
time — he looked around him ; far off in the blue 
distance he saw a sail. To tear off some of his 
clothing, to grasp again the board, that had already 
done him such service, and with them to make a 
signal of distress, was his next act. 

Would that signal be seen and answered? 

God — the God he had always denied — the God 
who had hitherto so wonderfully preserved him — 
alone knew. In an agony of hope and fear he 
watched and waited — as those wait who know 
that their life depends upon the issue of the next 
few moments. Slowly, very slowly, the white 
sails approached him. Once they seemed to re- 
cede, and with a groan he closed his eyes and felt 
that all .was over. But when he looked again the 
distance was lessening. Over the hungry waves 
they were surely coming nearer. On they came — 
nearer and still nearer — until, at last, friendly 
voices sounded in his ears, strong hands were 
stretched out to rescue him, and, weak and helpless 
28 


326 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


as a child, he felt himself lifted from his basket, 
and knew that he was saved. 

The God in whom Kathie believed had been 
faithful to the trust he committed to him. 

Let us sing,^^ Professor Carter said, gently, 
breaking the silence that had followed Mr. Trinot^s 
last words. And, with hearts so full of thanks- 
giving that — like dumb birds that die of their 
imprisoned gladness — it seemed as if they must 
break if they did not give utterance to their grati- 
tude, they sang Praise God from whom all 
blessings flow.^^ 

Amen Mr. Trinot said, as the last note of 
the grand old doxology died away — in a voice 
that only Kathie heard. And with the echo of 
that ^^Amen^^ thrilling her heart, it seemed to 
her that forever more the language of her soul 
would be ^^So be it, Lord,^^ to all her Father 
willed. 

There still remained many questions for Mr. 
Trinot and his friends to decide. There were 
many old doubts, that he had cherished for years, 
to be forever laid to rest, and many new lessons 
for him to learn in the school of Christ that he 
had now entered as a pupil. 

For years Hugh Trinot had lain a helpless 
prisoner in Giant Despair^s dungeon. Now, with 
the ‘^key called Promise, he unlocked his prison- 
door, and then, armed with prayer and his Bible, 


OUT OF CASTLE DOUBTING, 


327 


he went forth, like another Great-heart, to de- 
molish Doubting-castle. 

He did not pause to parley and argue with 
every subtle doubt that presented itself. Had he 
done so, he might have remained in bondage to 
Giant Despair forever; but bravely saying, 
know in whom I believe, yes, and will believe,^^ 
he fought his battle ; and, for him. Doubting- 
castle was soon a ruined heap. And always after 
his word of advice to all doubting souls was, — 
Entertain all the strangers you please, but 
never admit a doubt ; for, though they may come 
in the disguise of angels, you will find, at last, 
that they are destroying fiends. You can will to 
do everything else; will, then, to believe, and you 
will never fail to find that he who puts his will 
on God’s side is sure of victory.” 

And now there is little more to tell of Kathie 
and Mr. Trinot. 

One fair, spring day they stood before Archi- 
bald MacMillan, Avho spoke a few solemn words, 
and then, in glad content, they went forth to 
spend the rest of their lives together. 

^^How good God has been to them!” Margery 
said, as she watched them drive away. 

And yet they have both been under his cloud 
and passed through his sea,” Mrs. MacMillan 
gently answered. ^^But through all her trials 
one never doubted, and according to her faith it 


328 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


has been unto her. Margery, dear, we wonder, 
often, that our prayers remain unanswered; but 
whenever, in our unbelief, we are tempted to 
murmur at the failure or delay that seems to us 
so strange, let us pause and remember that the 
promise is, — ^According to your faith.’ 


CHAPTER XIX. 


IN THE CHAMBER OP PEACE. 

** Now, while they lay here, and waited for the good hour, 
there was a noise in the town that there was a post come from 
the Celestial City .” — PilgrMs ProgresSy Part II, 

XT was a still, sweet, summer morning; roses 
were nodding in at the open windows, and in 
and out among the old trees bright- winged birds 
were gayly dancing, and oriole songs, that seemed 
like remembered strains of Eden’s happy music, 
were filling the world with melody and joy. 

Out under the shade of a beautiful magnolia 
tree in Professor Carter’s garden Margery was 
sitting alone ; but there was a shadow on her face, 
and in the gladness of the summer life around her she 
had, that morning, no part and felt no sympathy. 

The house was strangely still ; no steps echoed 
through its broad hall, no voices sounded pleas- 
antly through its open doors and windows; every- 
where it seemed pervaded by the hush that falls 
upon life 

“ When, in the shadow of some great affliction. 

The soul sits dumb.” 

28 * ( 329 ) 


330 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


It was the morning of the day appointed for 
Mrs. Trinot’s return to them for a short visit, and 
with none but glad anticipations loving hearts had 
looked forward to it; but during the night a 
messenger from the silent land had come, and now 
they knew that this was the day that God had ap- 
pointed for one of his long-tried, faithful servants 
to return home. 

Up in his pleasant chamber, watched over by 
the wife who through so many years had shared 
his joys and sorrows. Professor Carter was slowly 
and peacefully going away. 

There was nothing, so far as this world went, 
to hope ; but there was also nothing, as faith glad- 
ly whispered to them, to fear. A Christian was 
only going to Christ, and, even while their tears 
fell, they could say to him and to each other, — 

“ Beloved, it is well.” 

Down the gravel walk a firm step echoed soon, 
and Margery looked up to see Mr. MacMillan 
coming towards her. 

^^What a day for the coronation he said, 
gently, as he sat down on the grass beside her. 

Margery understood him; but the thought of 
all that coronation’^ meant for them broke down 
the calm she had all the morning struggled to 
maintain, and with tearful eyes she looked at 
him. 


IN THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 


331 


we, too, could only be there to see it,^^ she 
said, with a sob. 

^^Do you remember the glass through which the 
pilgrims, when on the Delectable Mountains, look- 
ed towards the Celestial City?’^ Mr. MacMillan 
asked, in a moment. 

Margery’s tears were her only answer. She was 
hardly able yet to look through that glass, arid 
see something like the gate, and also some of 
the glory of the place.” 

Kind, sympathizing eyes, that felt and shared 
her grief, watched her for a few minutes, and then 
a gentle hand touched hers, and a voice, at once 
tender and firm, said, — 

Stop, Miss Margery ! Our friend has charged 
us to shed no tears, but rather to give thanks for 
him. It is with him, as it was with Mr. Stand- 
fast when he, too, went over the river. Do you 
remember how that was?” 

^^No,” she whispered; ^^tell me.” 

And in a voice whose very tone was calming 
Mr. MacMillan softly repeated, — 

^^‘Now there was a great calm at that time 
in the river; wherefore Mr. Standfast, when 
he was about half-way in, stood awhile, and 
talked with his companions.’ That is what our 
friend is doing now,” Mr. MacMillan said 
soon, ^‘and he has sent me to bring you to 
him.” 


332 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


I — cannot — go/^ Margery said, with 
another burst of tears. 

think you can/^ Mr. MacMillan said, sooth- 
ingly. There is nothing to shrink from. He is 
so happy himself that his only thought is of 
making others so. Come, Miss IMargery.^^ And 
without another word, Margery let him lead her 
towards the house. 

Very gently in the hall Mr. MacMillan remov- 
ed her hat and drew back a curl of sunny hair 
that had fallen low on her forehead. 

// 'VYe are going to the Chamber of Peace,^^ he 
said, softly. Already he is resting there — on 
the heart of Jesus — and for his sake we must not 
show sorrow.^ No, no more tears, he gently com- 
manded ; I forbid them.^^ And with a great 
effort Margery obeyed, and with a composed face 
followed him to the sick-room. 

They were all assembled there, and all quiet 
and calm as the beautiful day itself. Mrs. Car- 
ter even looked towards Margery with a tender 
smile, and Professor Carter said, in his own fam- 
iliar voice, as they came to his bedside, — 

^^So you found my little girl, did you, 
Archibald ? Margery, dear child,’^ — ^and he 
reached for and took her trembling hand,— I 
showed you first the way to heaven, and now you 
must not mourn that I am going there before you. 
You must only remember that in one of our 


IN THE CHAMBER OF PEACE. 


333 


Father’s many mansions I shall be waiting — 
when you come — to welcome you home.” 

Mai’gery could give no answer to those tender 
words, and for a long time after no one spoke in 
that quiet room. 

Without birds chirped, and flowers unfolded, 
and clouds gathered across the sky and darkened 
for a while its sunshine, and sent a passing shower 
down to the thirsty earth, but soon broke into 
filmy bits and through their rifts let heaven’s own 
blue smile brightly down once more. All nature’s 
beautiful processes went on unchecked and unsad- 
dened, for it is only our poor, faithless, human 
hearts that stand still at the approach of death. 

Margery,” Professor Carter asked presently, 
do you remember Immanuel’s Land ? Can you 
say it for me now ?” 

Margery’s heart almost stood still at that re- 
quest. Long ago, at Pine Clumps, Profes- 
sor Carter had given her that poem, and she 
had committed it to memory, and often on their 
pleasant rides and walks repeated it to him. Could 
she say it now ? Her lips trembled, but only 
for a moment ; then, in a strength that was surely 
not her own, in a low but clear voice, she repeated, — 

‘ The sands of time are sinking, 

The dawn of heaven breaks ; 

The summer morn IVe sighed for, 

The fair sweet morn awakes ; 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


Dark, dark hath been the midnight, 
But day-spring is at hand, 

And glory— glory dwelleth 
In Immanuel’s Land. 

* The King there, in his beauty 

Without a vail, is seen ; 

It were a well-spent journey, 

Though seven deaths lay between. 
The Lamb, with his fair army. 

Doth on Mount Zion stand. 

And glory— glory dwelleth 
In Immanuel’s Land. 

* Oh ! Christ, he is the fountain, — 

The deep, sweet well of love ! 

The streams on earth I’ve tasted. 
More deep I’ll drink above; 

There, to an ocean fulness 
His mercy doth expand, 

And glory — glory dwelleth 
In Immanuel’s Land. 

* I’ve wrestled on toward heaven, 
’Gainst storm, and wind, and tide ; 
Now like a weary traveler 
That leaneth on his guide. 

Amid the shades of evening. 

While sinks life’s lingering sand, 

I hail the glory dawning 
From Immanuel’s Land. 

'With mercy and with judgment 
My web of time he wove ; 

And aye the dews of sorrow 
Were lustred with his love: 

I’ll bless the hand that guided, 

I’ll bless the heart that planned. 
When throned where glory dwelleth. 
In Immanuel’s Land.’ ” 


IN THE CHAMBER OF PEACE, 


335 


Margery^s voice was trembling a little now, and, 
for a second, she paused. 

Go on, please,^^ Professor Carter said, feebly. 

And, controlling herself by a strong effort once 
more, softly, but distinctly, she repeated, — 

“ ‘ Oh, I am my Beloved's, 

And my Beloved is mine ! 

He brings a poor, vile sinner 
Into his “ house of wine ! " 

I stand upon his merit, 

I know no safer stand. 

Not e’en where glory dwelleth 
In Immanuel’s land. 

“ * I shall sleep sound in Jesus, 

Filled with his likeness rise, 

To live and to adore him. 

To see him with these eyes ; 

'Tween me and resurrection 
But Paradise doth stand ; 

Then — then for glory dwelling, 

In Immanuel’s land. 

“ ‘ The bride eyes not her garments, 

But her dear bridegroom’s face, 

I will not gaze at glory. 

But on my King of Grace — 

Not at the crown he giveth, 

But on his pierced hand : 

The Lamb is all the glory 
Of Immanuel’s Land.’ ” 

There was a sorrowful break in Margery’s voice 
now, and, as if conscious that the effort she was 
making was too hard for her, Professor Carter 
motioned her to stop. 


336 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


The Lamb— is all — the glory/^ he whispered, 
while a beautiful smile lit up his pale face. Yes, 
and I — shall see him soon — and then — I shall be 
‘ — satisfied.^^ 

His voice changed a little, and a sudden spasm, 
as of pain, contracted his face. It was but for a 
moment ) soon he looked up, and smiled brightly 
as ever on the tender faces that bent over him. 

Do not be troubled,” he said, soothingly, — as 
if, even in that supreme moment, mindful of them 
alone — it is nothing to mind — it will soon be 
over. Margaret,” — and now his eyes sought his 
wife’s face, and never left it again, — do you re- 
member, dear — ^ The pilgrim they laid — in a large 
open chamber — whose window opened toward — 
the sun-rising. The name of the chamber was — 
Peace. There he slept till — daybreak. Then he 
awoke and — ^began — to sing.’ Think of that day- 
break, dear ; think of the singing — then,^' 

And as if, with the thought of that singing, the 
longing to join in it grew too strong to be longer 
denied, he murmured once more, — 

“ The Lamb is all the glory.” 

And then the gates were flung wide open, and 
through them the grand old pilgrim passed into 
the city, that had no need of the sun, neither of 
the moon, to shine in it : for the glory of God 
did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY, 


And I slept, and dreamed again, and saw the same two pil- 
grims going down the mountains along the highway towards 
the city.” — Pilgrim* s Progress. 


T was the last night of Margery’s visit ; early 



the next morning she was to start for home, 
and, late in the afternoon, she stole, unnoticed, as 
she thought, from the house, and found her way 
to the sacred God’s-acre ” where Professor Carter 
was peacefully resting. God’s-acre ” — with a 
sweet, soothing power that name returned to her, 
while she stood looking, with moist eyes, at the 
flower-strewn grave that covered one who had 
been to her the truest of true friends ; who had 

“ Allured to brighter worlds and led the way.” 

In God’s-acre ” he was sleeping — no pain could 
ever reach him now — and in God’s world she 
and all he loved were living. And as she re- 
membered that, St. Paul’s grand words came home 
to her with new meaning : Whether we live, 


29 


(337) 


w 


338 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s/^ And, kneel- 
ing by that precious grave, Margery gave herself 
anew to the Lord, and consecrated to him all she 
had and was, and humbly prayed that he would 
make her Christ-like. 

The sun was just setting as she knelt there ; its 
golden light was falling through the tree-tops and 
brightening the marble slabs and moss-grown 
graves, and prophesying, in nature’s mute, beauti- 
ful way, of the light that would one day illumine 
that quiet spot when the sunrise of the resurrection 
morn should dawn. 

And them also which sleep in Jesus will God 
bring with hint,” she repeated ; and, with the sun- 
shine of that promise making both her heart and 
face bright, she looked up to find Mr. MacMillan 
waiting quietly beside her. 

It is growing damp. You must not stay here 
longer,” he said. And, as she turned homeward 
with him, Margery asked her surprised ques- 
tion, — 

How did you know where I was ?” 

Did you think you could run away and not be 
missed?” he said, with a smile. I believe, during 
the last hour or two, I have heard ^ Where’s Mar- 
gery ?’ at least a dozen times. And, as I seemed 
to be the only member of the household that could 
answer that question, I thought it wise to come 
and bring the truant home.” 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY. 


339 


^^But I don’t see how you knew where to 
come ?” Margery insisted. 

I saw you leave the house,” he said, quietly, 
^^and then, perhaps, sympathy was the magic 
thread by which I followed you.” 

wish I could always be followed by that 
thread,” Margery answered, with a little sigh. 

Are you not ?” The question was very simply 
and naturally asked, and Margery answered it in 
the same way, — ” 

Yes — here.” 

^‘But not in your own home?” he kindly ques- 
tioned. 

Margery hesitated a little. am sure of 

father’s sympathy always — now,” she said, in a 
moment ; but it seems as if I could not please 
mother, and Clifford and Laura.” 

^ Before his translation he had this testimony, 
that he pleased God,’ ” Mr. MacMillan said, thought- 
fully. Dear Miss Margery, it is very sweet to 
have the approval of our friends and to know that 
we please them ; but, as Christians, our aim must 
be higher than that — even to please God. And 
then the fulfillment of the promise will surely fol- 
low some day ; ‘ when a man’s ways please the 
Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace 
with him.’ ” 

^^Do you think so?” she said, wishfully. And 
in a moment the deepest wish of her heart found 


340 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


utterance. I could only know that mother 

and Clifford would surely be Christians some day, 
I believe I could bear everything.^^ 

He looked at the pure, lovely face she turned 
towards him, and almost involuntarily the low 
words escaped him. would not like to think of 
your bearing everything.^^ But in the next breath 
he said, quietly as ever, — 

‘‘You know that Christ died for them. Miss 
Margery ; and you know, too, that no true prayer 
goes up to him, that he does not stoop to hear. 

* Not one that was really earnest 
Ever has lost its way, 

And none that asked for a blessing 
' Ever was answered nay/ 

There you must rest. God sometimes tests our 
faith — not by denying, but only by, for a time, 
withholding the good we ask of him. He is 
never iuipatient of long delays, and the children 
who love and trust him must be willing to wait 
patiently his hour.^^ 

“I think I am willing,’^ Margery said, humbly; 
“only, sometimes, I feel very anxious.’^ 

“I know,^^ he said, very kindly. “I know well 
what those anxious times are. But when they 
come, Miss Margery, say to yourself, ‘God^s will is 
full of love — God’s time is always best.’ And 
then tell all your care to him, and, without worry- 
ing or fretting, leave it wdth him.” 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY, 


341 


They were near home now, and walked along in 
silence until they reached the gate; but just as he 
opened it Mr. MacMillan rather abruptly asked, — 

^^Will you give me your father’s business 
address, Miss Margery ? I have a little private 
affair of my own that I wish to consult him 
about.” 

With the frank simplicity of a child, she com- 
plied with his request, and then entered the house, 
and for the remainder of the evening devoted her- 
self to Mrs. Carter. There was much to be talked 
about, and many last plans and arrangements to 
be made; for in Professor Carter’s childless home 
— as in how many others? — ^the going out of the 
husband meant, but too truly, the sundering of the 
house-band. 

Mr. Trinot had decided not to go to China, 
but to reside in Nev/ York ; and already he and 
Mrs. Trinot were busily engaged with their prep- 
arations for housekeeping. It was not advisable 
for Mrs. Carter to remain in her old home alone, 
and it was decided that for the present, at least, 
she should live with Mrs. MacMillan, and rent the 
pleasant house that had given them all so many 
cordial welcomes ; and Margery sighed, as she 
thought that when she left it, the next day, it 
would in all human probability, be for the last 
time. 

Never mind,” Mrs. MacMillan said, encourag- 
29 * 


342 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


ingly, as she moved about Margery room, and 
helped her in her packing; ^^you know you are 
coming to see us soon in Bellefield. You must not 
forget that you have promised to come, some time, 
and hear Archibald preach/^ 

^^No, I shall not forget,^^ Margery rather dole- 
fully answered; ^^but father writes that mother 
and he are very lonely, now that Clifford and 
Laura have gone to housekeeping, and that he 
doesn’t think be can ever spare me again ; so I am 
afraid it will be a long time before I see you and 
Bellefield.” 

Perhaps Archibald can manage it,” Mrs. Car- 
ter said, as quietly as if she were suggesting the 
possibility of his managing Margery’s trunk, that 
seemed inclined to resist all her and Mrs. Mac- 
Millan’s efforts to lock it. 

He can do almost everything, I know,” Mar- 
gery said, as, with a determined spring on its top, 
she sent the hasp of the trunk into its place ; but 
I don’t know about this. However,” she promised; 
^^when the way opens I will surely come, dear 
Mrs. MacMillan.” And with that promise her 
friends were forced to be content. 

Margery had been home but a few days, when 
one morning, as Mr. Hamilton sat alone in his 
office examining his numerous business letters and 
papers, he found among them one that seemed to 
be of unusual interest. 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY. 


343 


Slowly, with great care, he read and re-read it, 
and then, spreading it before him on his desk, he 
sat a long time looking at it with serious and 
rather melancholy eyes. 

‘‘ Hum he muttered at last, as, with an almost 
impatient gesture, he folded the important epistle 
and thrust it into his pocket. Hum ! — 

* Thus it is our daughters leave us, 

Those we love, and those who love us ! 

Just as they have learned to hely us, 

When we are old and lean upon them.’ ” 

He stopped and passed his hand almost roughly 
across his eyes, where something very like a mist 
seemed to be gathering. Pshaw r he said, scorn- 
fully; twonder if I am growing sentimental in 
my old age. I am a business man, and I suppose 
I ought to take a business view of this case, as 
well as of every other. But to give up my little 
Margery — Well, I could not expect my bird to 
stay always in the old nest. And I suppose I 
ought to be proud and glad to give her into hands 
as strong and safe as these that are asking for her 
now. But 1^11 take my own time about giving 
her,^' he decided, with a wise nod of his head; 
^^and before I let this young man come to plead 
his cause I’ll make sure that his doing so will 
really add to the child’s happiness. If the blind 
god — who is always making mischief somewhere — 
hasn’t actually hit her with an arrow yet, I’ll 


344 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


keep her far beyond his reach for some time to 
come/^ And having thus satisfactorily settled on 
his course of action, Mr. Hamilton, with what 
heart and interest he could, turned to his business 
duties. 

Margery he said, that evening, as, while 
resting in his easy-chair, he watched his daughter 
as she sat opposite him with her lap full of soft, 
bright wools. Margery, you haven^t had time 
to tell me much about your visit yet. I know 
you enjoyed it ; but after all, didn^t you sometimes 
find it very lonely 

Lonely and Margery^s face and voice were 
both alike full of surprise at the bare suggestion 
of such a possibility. ^^Why, father, I did not 
have one lonely moment. It was the happiest 
visit — but one — that I ever made.^^ 

Ah ! indeed. And what was that other visit 
^^Why, the one I made Miss Woodward at 
Bellefield the Christmas Clifford was sick. Donft 
you remember, father 

Pretty weiy^ Mr. Hamilton said, dryly; while 
the rather unnecessary kick he bestowed just then 
on his foot-rest seemed to say — ^^only too 
well.^^ ^^Let me see. Mrs. MacJIillan lives in 
Bellefield, I believe, and you visited her then, too, 
didnft you 

Yes,^^ Margery very quietly answered. 

‘^And this summer Mrs. MacMillan and her 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY, 


345 


son have been at Mrs. Carter’s. Now, I saw Pro- 
fessor Carter and his wife and Miss Woodward 
the morning they met you at the station ; but I 
have never seen the MacMillans. What are they 
like, Margery ? Give me a good portrait of them, 
can’t you ?” 

Margery sat still a moment, looking with in- 
tent eyes on the carpet, as if the pleasant faces 
her father wished described were smiling at her 
from it. 

What is Mrs. MacMillan like, father ?” she 
said, thoughtfully. I think she is like what we 
mean when we talk of rest ; for just to be with 
her seems to soothe and strengthen you. And she 
is a woman who never worries, father ; and so, 
wherever she goes, she carries sunshine with her.” 

Humph !” Mr. Hamilton ejaculated ; a wo- 
man who never worries, is she ? I would quite 
like to make her acquaintance. I have seen a 
great many women in my life, but one ^ who never 
worries’ has never yet come within my field of 
vision. Well, go on, Margery; your portrait- 
painting is very effective. What is her son like?” 

Margery shook her head at that question. I 
cannot describe him, father,” she said, gravely. 

Why not? Because there is nothing in him 
worthy of description ?” 

Why, father !” And this time there was a 
note of indignation in Margery’s sweet voice, that 


346 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


at once amused and vexed her father. I think 
he is the noblest man I ever knew.^^ 

Present company ought to be much obliged to 
you/^ Mr. Hamilton said; but his voice was playful 
and Margery little suspected the pain his laughing 
words concealed. Well/^ he began again in a 
moment, should suppose this paragon of 
nobility would be getting married, Margery; isn^t 
he engaged yet 

What was there in that matter-of-fact question, 
that was asked with so much apparent carelessness, 
to make Margery feel uncomfortable and almost 
unhappy ? Perhaps if a reason had been demanded, 
she could not have given it ; but Mr. Hamilton 
well knew that her voice was changed, as she 
answered, I do not know.^^ 

^^Well, don’t you, at least, hope he is?” Mr. 
Hamilton mercilessly continued; wouldn’t you 
like to know his wife ?” 

I don’t know,” Margery stammered ; and, 
rising hurriedly, she murmured something about 
going to find mother,” and escaped from the 
room. 

With eyes at once laughing and troubled Mr. 
Hamilton looked after her; but whatever he 
thought of the information he had gained, he was, 
at least, compelled to own that his inquisitorial 
examination had been a great success. 

Ah ! sits the wind in that quarter ?” he mut- 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY, 


347 


tered^ rather gloomily. ^^Well, IVe nothing to 
gain by waiting, that^s evident, and 1^11 write that 
letter to-morrow.^^ And for long hours after 
reaching that decision Mr. Hamilton remained 
where Margery left him, while visions, at once 
sad and pleasant, of the coming years passed in 
rapid succession before him. 

It was early in July now, and in a few days 
Mrs. Hamilton, with Clifford, and Laura, started 
for one of the fashionable summer resorts, and 
Margery, to her great delight, was left at home 
with her father. 

Donft you think me a pretty good housekeeper, 
father she asked, gayly, one morning at break- 
fast, as she gave her father what was, he declared, 
the perfection of a cup of coffee. 

Almost too good,’^ Mr. Hamilton answered, 
with a smile that, in spite of his effort to be cheer- 
ful, ended in a sigh. ^^We never have a very 
superior article, of any kind, in our possession, 
Margery, that somebody does not covet it, and try 
to coax or steal it from us.’^ 

Margery laughed very contentedly. There is 
no danger, father, this ^superior article’ will 
neither be coaxed nor stolen from you,” she 
promised. 

Think not? Well, my dear, I hope you will 
prove a true prophetess. And, by the way,” — Mr. 
Hamilton proceeded, carelessly, as if the subject 


348 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD. 


was not one that had cost him a sleepless night — • 
there is a little matter I must not forget to men- 
tion. I expect to bring a friend home with me 
this afternoon. So order a good dinner, little girl, 
and have everything bright and pleasant.^^ And, 
with a kiss that was even fonder than usual, Mr. 
Hamilton went off to his office. 

With all the care and painstaking of a new and 
anxious housekeeper, Margery made her prepara- 
tions for her father’s guest, and when all was 
satisfactorily arranged, in the early summer after- 
noon, she went into the library to while away, 
among her favorite books, the two or three hours 
before her father would probably return. 

Presently, while in the very luxury of repose, 
she sat curled up in an easy chair reading, with 
flushed cheeks and kindling eyes. Browning’s won- 
derful letter from Karsh ish, the picker-up of 
learning’s crumbs,” she heard the door-bell ring. 

She stirred a little impatiently. Oh, dear, I 
do hope that is no one to call on me,” she thought, 
rather inhospitably. The next moment a servant 
opened the library door, and Margery looked up 
to see Mr. MacMillan standing on the threshold. 

Sometimes it is pleasant to have our hopes dis- 
appointed. And, if the beautiful color that sud- 
denly overspread Margery’s face could be believed, 
it was certainly pleasant for her to be disappointed 
now. 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY. 


349 


Have I taken you very much by surprise 
Mr. MacMillan asked, in his usual quiet manner. 

Mr. Hamilton requested me to precede him, as 
he thought it probable he would be detained later 
than usual by his business to-night.^^ 

Even while Margery’s answer was glad and 
cordial as possible, she still looked a little per- 
plexed. 

Father told me, this morning, he expected to 
bring a friend home with him to-night,” she said ; 
^^but ” 

^^But you did not expect to see me,” Mr. Mac- 
Millan laughingly interrupted. I hope I may 
claim to be that friend. Miss Margery ; will you 
not receive me as such?” 

^^But this,” Margery soberly explained, ^^was 
father’s friend.” 

^^And, pray, is there any serious objection to 
my being your father’s friend?” Mr. MacMillan 
playfully asked. 

Oh, no,” Margery said, in some confusion ; I 
am very glad if you are ; but — I did not know 
that you knew him.” 

I know him a little,” Mr. MacMillan gravely 
answered. have had a long conversation with 
him to-day, and hope soon to know him better. 
But — Miss Margery, the fulfillment of that hope 
depends — entirely— upon — you.” 

^^Upon me?” Margery faltered. 

30 


350 


ALONG THE OLD ROAD, 


^^Upon you — alone. If I am ever to know 
your father better and claim him as my — friend, 
it will only be because his daughter gives me the 
right to claim her as my own. Will she?^^ 

There was a sweet, tremulous silence for a few 
moments in that beautiful room, and then, in the 
glad confidence that the friend who asked that 
right would never wdsh to turn her aside from the 
King’s highway,” Margery granted his request. 
Great was Mrs. Hamilton’s, and Clifford’s, and 
Laura’s consternation when letters from Mr. 
Hamilton and Margery told them of the ap- 
proaching change in their family. If it had been 
possible, they would certainly have prevented it ; 
but with her father on her side, Margery was 
safe, and, yielding to the inevitable, they grad- 
ually withdrew their opposition. 

It might have been worse,” they — in a make- 
the-best-of-a-misfortune spirit — remarked. But 
years after, when still unsatisfied with this world’s 
pleasures they were willing, at last, to learn the 
lessons God would teach them; and then Mar- 
gery’s prayers for them were answered. 

And now let us take one more look at Margery, 
before we leave her still walking onward, in the 
sunshine of a faith ever growing brighter, along 
the old road whose end is heaven. 

It was Christmas night again, four years since 
the glad Christmas night when Margery played 


STILL ALONG THE HIGHWAY. 


351 


blind-man’s-buff, and caught Mr. MacMillan, and 
made him, as he playfully says, her captive for- 
ever. And once more Mrs. MacMillan’s house 
had been brilliantly lighted, and Christmas fires 
had burned brightly on the ample hearths. There 
had been a large and happy gathering in the hos- 
pitable old house during the evening ; it was late 
now; and Margery MacMillan stood alone in the 
library, looking with thoughtful but happy eyes 
at the glowing heap of coals and embers, whose red 
light still played brightly over her face and dress. 

The door opened soon, and with a quick step 
Mr. MacMillan came to her side. 

Seeing pictures in the coals?” he said gently; 
what are they, Margery ?” 

She smiled a little as she answered, A pan- 
orama of Pilgrim’s Progress, I think, Archi- 
bald.” 

With you and me for the pilgrims?” Mr. 
MacMillan asked, playfully. Well, Margery, 
where are we now ?” 

I am not sure,” she answered, in a rather sober 
voice. 

He watched her for a moment and then he 
asked, Do you remember the Delectable Moun- 
tains, where Christian and Hopeful ^ went forth 
and walked awhile, having a pleasant prospect on 
every side ?’ are we not there, Margery ? I would 
fain believe so.” 


352 


ALONG THE OLD HOAD. 


Yes, I thought of those mountains/^ Margery 
owned, with a smile that was full of sunshine ; 

but they were not the end of the pilgrim’s jour- 
ney, Archie, and as I look onward and think of 
all the steps yet to be taken, I cannot help feeling 
a little afraid.” 

^‘Then do not look onward; look upward,” he 
tenderly counseled. Margery,” he added soon, 
there is one glad, sure answer for all your fears. 
Along the ^ King’s highway’ the Master goes be- 
fore his own ; and if, with steps that turn not to 
the right hand nor to the left, we follow him, he 
will not fail to guide us safely past all the dangers 
we are yet to meet.” 

^^And then?” Margery softly whispered, as he 
paused. 

^^And then?” he thoughtfully echoed. ^^Ah! 
my little pilgrim, I cannot answer that question 
now. We must wait until Ave, too, come to the 
end of the old road, and, like Bunyan’s grand pil- 
grims, ^ go up and follow one another in at the 
beautiful gate of the city.’ And then — in a truer, 
gladder sense than we can understand here, where 
all is changing — we shall know the blessedness of 
being forever at home.” 

THE END. 




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